Manifest
by Kreek
Summary: When Uther takes measures to root out the culprit who he thinks is out to destroy Camelot, Merlin is in trouble. Angst / whump / Bromance.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **'Merlin' does not belong to me. Written for fun only.  
><em>_**Warning: **Spoilers up to season 2. There's going to be angst and whump, so be warned. Some mild swearing.  
><em>_**Rated:** A very high T  
><em>_**Beta work**: By Starsky's Strut  
><em>_**Category: **Drama, friendship, bromance. No slash.  
><em>_**Setting: **This story takes place during the gap in between series two and three. Set immediately after 'The Last Dragon Lord'.  
><em>_**Summery: **When Uther takes measures to root out the culprit he thinks is bent on destroying Camelot, Merlin is in trouble.  
><em>_**Author's notes:** Although I have written stories in other fandoms, this is my first venue in the amazing world of 'Merlin'. There's friendship in all my stories but also angst and whump. I don't do slash. Also, since I'm non-native English I double and triple check my grammar. All chapters are beta read by my good friend Strut. Any remaining mistakes are mine. _

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><p><em>If I can't use my magic, what have I got?<br>__If I can't use my magic, I might as well die.  
><em>_-Merlin-_

**MANIFEST**  
>-A Merlin story-<br>(Kreek©March2012)

**Chapter 1**

Rain pelted down, turning the battlements of Camelot into bleak grey stone walls. Not even the cleansing waters drenching ground to mud could disperse the sharp tang of fire lingering in the air. Merlin trailed after Arthur, doing his best to keep his footing on the rubble strewn path flanking Camelot's western fortifications. In an attempt to keep the scrolls dry beneath his flimsy red-brown jacket, he clutched them against his blue shirt.

He'd always been drawn to the written word. Especially books. With their leather bindings soft to the touch, holding such secrets within. Almost like magic. His mother had never been able to afford them, but every once in a while she'd bring him one. Those childhood days, all those years ago, when she had returned from the market and had offered him these little treasures were filled with delight. The days after alight with wonder as after chores he'd lost himself in tales and stories of another world, of castles and princes, heroes and villains, monsters and evil sorceresses. Even then, the latter had made him feel sad and confused up to the point where he'd thought he was cursed.

Growing both fearful and angry, Merlin had lashed out with his magic once in a while, which always ended in tears of remorse. His mother, while making sure no one had noticed, kept telling him he was special. He hadn't really believed it, until she'd given him that one book. He didn't know where she'd got it and if he asked, she would just smile and not say anything. No matter that they didn't live in Uther's Kingdom where these books were banned, they were still close enough to the border to make them very hard to come by. He never knew the title, the cover and first page had been missing, presumably to hide the books true topic: the adventures of a good man with magic as he travelled through Camelot, before the great purge . His mother had told him not all sorcery was bad, that he was special, but it wasn't until that book that he'd began to believe in himself again. He'd treasured the stories, reading at least a few pages every night before falling asleep.

The scrolls he currently carried, on the other hand, were cumbersome things. Resembling the rolling pins he'd seen Elliot the kitchen boy use, one or two you could easily handle, five on the other hand were a whole other matter, especially when the heavens did their best to wash the carefully rolled up parchments from his hands. In front of him, Arthur shot a teasing look over his shoulder.

"Come on, Merlin, quit dawdling!"

"I'm not dawdling!" Merlin glared at him. "Have you ever tried to make your way over men-sized boulders while holding on to these 'things? I assume you want them dry when you get there, _Sire._"

Blue eyes narrowed with impatience and a hint of concern, before Arthur apparently managed to draw upon his never ending supply of overbearing arrogance and walked up to him. "Dry _and_ safe, Merlin." He raised his finger in warning. "These are the only plans we have outlining this side of the Citadel. We are going to need them if we want to repair these walls. So do _not_ stumble, like you're prone to do!"

"Then you better slow down," Merlin snapped without thought. "The wall's not going to repair itself overnight, I'm sure the overseer can wait for a few minutes longer for his precious plans to arrive!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You want to be thrown in the stocks?"

Normally quite adept in reflecting Arthur's jibes -there was no malice in the prince's tired eyes- Merlin felt a sliver of dismay settle on his face. "You would really do that to me?" He straightened. Guilt clenched his stomach as he took in the devastation around him, the fear on people's faces, the losses they had sustained. If he hadn't released the dragon, none of this would have happened. He was wet, had not slept properly in days, and on top of that had just saved Arthur's life again last night without him knowing any of the grief he carried. As much as he tried to push the sadness away, he couldn't dispel all of his exhaustion, couldn't keep the pain, having watched his father die yesterday so shortly after they'd just met, from his face. "In this weather. After what we've been through."

Arthur withdrew from him, actually looking taken aback by the sting in his voice. "Thinking about it."

Merlin didn't care.

Obviously realizing the empty threat didn't work, Arthur mellowed. "Look, Merlin, I know that you are tired. We all are, after what happened."

"Yeah," he felt some of his tension drain away."

Pale faced, wet blond bangs sticking to his forehead, his armour dented and dull, Arthur looked as worn out as Merlin felt. "Just… try to keep up."

Merlin nodded, and proceeded to follow Arthur along the destroyed battlements. The rain had slowed to a drizzle still intent on soaking him to the bone. He surveyed the wall. What Arthur had been afraid of had happened overnight. Parts of the upper western wall had collapsed, leaving spiked parts of the battlements standing like ragged peaks of a cliff face, the foot of the wall they skirted was covered in tons of heavy debris. Houses lining the wall collapsed, costing at least half a dozen more lives. This site of the Citadel had taken the brunt of Killghara's attack. The sky seemed to share his sorrow as it melted with their surroundings and did its best to convey the seeming hopelessness of their task. They would rebuild though. Merlin had that much faith. They'd repair the wall, and make it better than before.

At the far side of the destroyed wall, the debris field levelled out until they reached the western road leading into the Citadel. Since the road was blocked, Arthur had his knights redirecting all those heading into the castle toward the southern entrance, which -due to all the debris- took at least twice as long as opposed to the obstacle course Merlin had just been forced to take. Noticing their prince, the people gave them a wide birth, some of them lowering their heads as a token of respect, grateful he'd slain the dragon. Already tales were spun, stories told that would one day be put to script in one of those books Merlin so loved. They wouldn't tell about the decisions he'd made, though, or of the guilt borne pain tearing him up inside as close to losing consciousness, he'd been forced to poison Morgana, knowing that if he wouldn't, Arthur would die and Camelot would fall. Part of him hoped she was safe, while another part of him hoped they'd never find her again. Only in the past few days had hard reality hit him that his destiny to protect Arthur would cost him much more than he could ever have imagined. He doubted if he'd ever be able to enjoy the wonders of a good book, of life again. It was worth it though, to keep Arthur safe. Deep in thought, his foot suddenly sank away in a water logged pothole. Flailing to keep his balance, he tripped over an exposed tree root and launched himself forward, landing face first in the mud. Pain hit where his skin grazed sharp stone, and the air got knocked out of him. For a second he lay breathless.

"_Mer_lin!"

Arthur's voice brought him to his senses. He didn't sound too happy.

"You clumsy idiot!"

It was then he realized he didn't hold the scrolls anymore. He lifted his head, carefully, afraid of what he might find.

Arthur's expression battled between anger and hopelessness. "Look at them! We'll never be able to dry them out!" Following his gaze, Merlin found the scrolls lying scattered across the muddy road in front of him. Three of them covered in wet earth, while the other two had landed in one of the path's many potholes. Arthur lifted them from their watery basin, drops dripping off of exposed rolls of parchment. "They're ruined!"

At Arthur's somewhat high-pitched voice, a warning he'd reached the end of his patience, which he really should pay attention to, Merlin hoisted himself up on sore hands to stay on his knees and stare at his handy work. "I can fix them," he tried.

"Fix them?" Arthur trotted over to him, scrolls clenched in white fists. "I should have you locked up in the dungeons for a week for this!"

"I…" He knew Arthur would never back up his threat. Well, maybe when he'd just arrived at Camelot two years ago, but not now. He stared at him, at a loss of what to say until suddenly he'd had enough. "Fine," he stated, brushing off his breeches. "I'll just sit here then." Despite Arthur then extending a hand to lift him up, exhaustion put him on the defence. "It's not like I tripped on purpose. Wait. Maybe I fell because I'm so tired I don't know where I'm going anymore!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, then hardened his voice. "You better hope these plans are still intact enough for the overseer to make something of it."

Covered in mud, Merlin glared at him.

"You want me to discipline him, My lord?" A woman shorter, heavier, and twice their age, had moved in to watch Merlin more closely. Wearing a faded dark cape, she had a round face with reddened cheeks, features he would have described as pleasant, if it weren't for the steel grey eyes boring into him. Something felt off. Her gaze too intense. Warily, he stepped back.

Arthur shook his head in obvious bewilderment. "Who," he demanded, "are you?"

Wrenching her attention away from Merlin, the woman turned to face Arthur. "I am the Lady Mathylda, Sire. The King felt he was in need of my services and has sent for me. I've only just arrived and am here to oversee your household staff. I know I am not officially in your service yet, but understand that insolent behaviour like this cannot be overlooked. The boy has to learn his place. I'll take him back with me to the palace now, if my lord agrees?"

Arthur blinked. There was a short silence.

Merlin could only guess what was going through his mind. Up until a few days ago, Camelot's household staff was overseen by Morgana. Now that she was gone, Uther needed someone to replace her. _He could have asked Gwen, _Merlin brooded, thinking of his friend. _I'm sure she would have done a great job._ She wasn't of high birth though, so he wasn't too surprised that Uther had decided to bring in someone from noble upbringing.

"No," Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not necessary."

Merlin kept quiet and eyed Mathylda with suspicion, though was careful not to let it show on his face.

"As you wish, sire."

"If it is at my father's request that you are here, then I am grateful and bid you welcome to Camelot. Guard!" Arthur ordered one of his men guarding the ruined houses littering the town. "Don't be alarmed, my Lady. I merely wish you a safe escort back to the citadel. As you can see we are suffering from the aftermath of battle. The streets are not safe."

She nodded at a heavy man standing with a laden cart off to the side, his robes resembling those of the court's genealogist, Geoffrey. "I have my cousin Tagan to keep me company, Sire, but will gladly accept your offer."

Merlin stared after her as the small group disappeared in the drizzle. "Do you know her?"

"I have heard of her," Arthur began, "I think she's related to my uncle, Aggravaine. She's not noble enough to own land, but she is entitled to run a household. She looks _very_ competent." He took a deep breath, a teasing smile entering his voice. "You better watch your step, Merlin. She'll have your hide if you slack in your duties!"

Merlin went to pick up the scrolls, taking the wet ones from Arthur's hands. "What? And you'll let her?"

"I will if you don't get those plans dried out," Arthur teased, then laughed at the indignant look Merlin shot him. "Oh come on! I'm sure she won't give you that much trouble."

Maybe not, but Merlin couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been searching for something as she'd studied him. He shivered with cold, deciding to put her out of his mind. For one because he didn't have the energy to ponder over this anymore, and for another because she couldn't possibly make him feel worse than he did now.

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><p><strong>To be continued (TBC)...<strong>

_**A/N:** These first few chapters are mainly me trying to get a handle on the characters and setting, while at the same time, laying down plot foundations. I found both Merlin and Arthur a challenge to write. Merlin because he has this subservient position, has to act like it, but at the same time is strong at heart and goes his own way. It's a challenge to write characters that act differently from who they are and to still maintain the depths of their characters. I hope I got the balance right. My compliments to all you excellent writers out there. However, I know everyone has their own take on these characters -in this fandom, opinions seem to be even more widespread than usual- as do I. Please take this into account. Feedback will be much appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Thank you for all your marvellous reviews! They are very much appreciated and make me feel very welcome AND they make me want to write more! I will strive to update once a week, but being non-native English it might take longer than that since I double check so often. I'm also pleased to hear that I got Merlin and Arthur somewhat in character. Special thanks goes to my beta extraordinaire Strut! You know why! All right. Here's chapter two. Remember, reviews are food for a writer's soul, so I would love to hear what you think. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"Merlin!" Not wasting time with subtlety, Arthur banged open the door and yanked the covers from his servant's rickety bed.

Merlin woke with a start, hand up. Deep blue eyes, hazed with sleep, squinted at Arthur. Obviously not wanting to make it look like he had a bad dream, his servant snatched his hand back, released a breath and relaxed back in his pillow. "Arthur, I could have killed you."

Merlin's sincere statement derailed thoughts and irritation alike. Ready to berate him, Arthur felt his lip curl with sarcasm instead. "Oh really? Good thing I'm wearing my armour then," he laughed, knowing he could fend off Merlin with his eyes closed. It wouldn't be for lack of try on Merlin's side though. No matter the insults he threw at his manservant, he was not in any way a cowered. _He'll just lose spectacularly. _

"You're dressed?"

"Yes," Arthur leaned in. "I'm dressed, because _you_ were suppose to wake me an hour ago!"

"What?" Taking in the early morning light sweeping in from the small window set high in the wall behind Arthur, Merlin sat up, dark hair tousled every which way. "Oh, the council meeting."

"Yes, the council meeting," Arthur drew out the last words. "Which I told you last night, my father convened earlier than usual at the urgent request of Mathylda's cousin."

"I'm sorry…" Merlin shook his head, obviously rallying his thoughts. "I'll get dressed."

Arthur picked up a discarded shirt from the floor and threw it in Merlin's face. "Hurry up. If Mathylda finds out I'm waiting on a servant instead of the other way around I can't keep her from disciplining you."

"I know, I know."

"Might even do you some good," he started, taking in the discarded items strewn around on the floor. The small room, bearing nothing but a bed, chest and a window looked as if a storm had blown through. "Teach you some humility."

"What's all the racket!"

Arthur turned to find Gaius standing in the doorway. The elderly court physician, who'd taken Merlin in as if he was his son, glared at his ward. From the looks of the old man he'd worked right through the night and only just walked in. "Are you late, again?"

Merlin gaped, closed his mouth and then paced angrily passed the both of them into the physician's main chamber.

"Did you dry out the scrolls?" Arthur yelled after him.

"Yes, my lord," turning in the front room, Merlin made a mock bow, his expression amused. "They're on the table."

Arthur opened his mouth with indignation, but then decided to let it go. Lord knew, Merlin had never been particularly respectful toward the title he bore, but something in the way he'd been behaving of late, had Arthur worried.

"I'm sorry, Sire. I should have woken him."

Arthur waved his apology away. "It's all right. I know you've been treating the wounded." There wouldn't have been so many of them, had he been able to slay the dragon before it had a chance to wreck so much havoc. Thank God he'd succeeded in the end. "How are they doing?"

Gaius voice softened. "Some are doing well, others… not so good." He hesitated. "There's one or two who I doubt will make it."

Arthur nodded, every death adding to the emptiness that had manifested itself in his heart after Morgana's kidnap. His father had sent out patrols, but none had been successful so far. More than anything he wanted to lead the search himself, to scout around until he'd at least found some clue as to where Morgause kept her prisoner. He hated to be stuck doing repairs, but was forced to concede that as long as western defences were down, he couldn't leave the city.

"I've told your father I won't be able to attend the council session this morning," Gaius continued. "Gwen is doing the best she can, but she can't take care of all the wounded on her own."

At the thought of Guinevere, Arthur's heart lightened a little. "I understand. It's not a formal session anyway. Just me, my father, and Sir Leon." He paused and pressed a finger to his lips, not sure if he should ask the question. Being Merlin's mentor however, the wizened physician would understand his worry. "Gaius," he started as the man was about to head back into the main room. "I know, as of late, we've all been under a lot of strain."

Gaius furrowed his brow. "That's hardly surprising, considering none of us have had a decent rest since Morgana disappeared."

Arthur lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gaius was right. Although having slept last night, for the first time since this whole mess began, he did not feel rested at all. How could he with Morgana still out there, alone? "Merlin," he said, pushing weariness aside. "Does he seem more withdrawn than usual to you, lately?"

The physician looked over his shoulder to where Arthur could see his servant pulling on his boots. "You mean he's not his usual vibrant self?"

"Something like that." Though he'd never admit this, he'd seen, had _felt_ Merlin's genuine distress. Especially right after the last Dragon Lord died. Come to think of it, Merlin hadn't been himself ever since Morgause took Morgana away, maybe even before that. Arthur might be a clotpole, as Merlin called him, but he had noticed his normally enthusiastic servant -unfazed by even a day in the stocks- had had a hard time of late.

Gaius studied him. "If it's possible," he stated. "Try to give him time, Sire."

For a second it looked like Gaius was going to say more, but when nothing was forthcoming, Arthur sighed, agreeing in silence, making a mental note to regularly check up on Merlin as long as Mathylda was around.

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><p>When Arthur arrived at the dining hall, his father was already sitting at the head of the table. Fruit, freshly baked bread and an assortment of meat and cheese set the tabletop. Sitting to his father's left, Mathylda rose in curtsy as he came in. She wore a lush yellow dress, brimmed with light blue silk setting off the grey in her eyes. She'd been hooded yesterday but now she sported a head full of dark brown curls touched with a streak of white tumbling down her round face. Having risen along with Mathylda, Tagan wore the washed-out red robe of a scribe, the same one Geoffrey their court genealogist wore, except this one was a tighter fit and more suitable for travelling. Opposite him, Sir Leon gave a respectful nod.<p>

"Arthur! So glad you could join us!" The king's smile felt welcome, but the steel in his eyes conveyed his father was annoyed at him for being late.

"Father, My Lady," Arthur said, sitting down between Leon and his father. Merlin, who'd fallen in step behind him, took the pitcher from the table and went around giving their goblets a refill, then drifted back into the shadows behind Arthur.

"I thought we might as well enjoy breakfast together."

Arthur admired his father's ability to hide his worry for Morgana behind his mask of welcome. He'd never quite succeeded in perfecting this technique.

"It is an honour, My lord," Tagan spoke, grey eyes matching the white streaks in his short cropped hair. "Had my message not been so dire, we would have waited for the council to convene, however I'm afraid that what I have to tell is of the utmost urgency." Having grown up at court, Arthur had seen many scribes pass by. They were a valuable source of information, either bringing news of the Kingdom, or entertaining them with their stories. Not many had the gift for true story telling though. Judging by Tagan's quiet pacing and deep tone of voice rising from his belly, this man had. Arthur found himself curious as to what Mathylda's cousin had to say.

"Nonsense," his father put a hand on Mathylda's fingers. "It's been far too long since I had the pleasure of your company. I take it you have settled in well?"

"We have had no trouble, My lord. Your serfs, maids and servants perform their jobs adequately," she glanced at Merlin when she answered, her tone betraying she was polite. Her gaze settled on Arthur, as if to scorn him for being too soft on his staff. He felt uncomfortable, but thought it wise to keep quiet for now.

"Oh? "

Arthur wasn't surprised at his father's question. Mathylda's dissatisfaction was obvious, which only emphasized his earlier assessment of her. She was doing her job well.

His father leaned in. "You think I've grown too lenient?"

Her smile did not reach her eyes. "It is not my place to judge your ways, My lord. Running a royal household is a task I will gladly perform. In my opinion, there is always room for improvement."

"Then we are in desperate need of your services."

His father looked relieved. Arthur didn't blame him. Since Morgana's first kidnap by the druids, the fight to get her back, followed by her kidnap by Morgause after the siege, the king had been struggling to get things back in order. Arthur helped where he could, but running a household was neither his nor his father's expertise.

"Tagan," Arthur changed the subject. "I believe there is a matter you wish to discuss."

Tagan nodded, wiped his mouth and started to talk. "In your quest to eradicate all sorcery from these lands, you have ordered those of my vocation to watch out for any leads that will uproot those still practicing the old religion."

"You have found a sorcerer?" Arthur straightened, reading anxiousness in the scribe's voice.

His father tensed.

Tagan gave a thin smile. "My lord, I'm not a witch finder. It is merely my duty to find the grain of truth seeded within the stories people tell me, and so I have learned to separate the wheat, the true born whispers, from the chaff. For if you dig deep enough, reality is there for all there to see."

"Then what is it you wish to tell me. Speak man!"

When concerning magic, his father bore little intolerance, if any. As much as Tagan obviously liked to talk riddles he'd better get to the point before the King lost his patience. Arthur had to admit he was intrigued.

"In order for you to understand, I need to start with the basics, My lord. We all know that with practice, study, and exercise, sorcerers are born. That is, providing you have potential. Most magic does not become apparent until you come of age. Therefore, we cannot ascertain for certain whether or not a child will be able to eventually use this potential, but if the parents have magic, we can be fairly sure that the child has potential too."

"I know," his father leaned back, "That is why I cannot allow such off spring to live."

"When magic does manifest, there is every chance it does so violently, like they did in the mighty sorcerers of old. They were the ones to fear, for they could bring down Camelot."

"They've all been taken care of during the Great Purge."

Arthur noticed his father chose his words carefully. Ever the diplomat, while in truth he had them all killed. The king's methods may have been extreme but, like all evil, magic needed to be eradicated completely in order to regain peace and stability in the lands. Whatever it was that Tagan wanted to tell them -if the man ever got to the point- Arthur feared magic was about to rear its ugly head again.

"I believe Cornelius Sigan was the last of them," his father continued.

"But even Sigan, one of the greatest sorcerers who ever lived, did not become that powerful overnight."

The king sighed, a sign he grew bored. "You haven't told me anything I don't already know."

"Sire, I stumbled upon a whisper too tenacious to ignore. I talked to many, listened hard, searched out those wronged by either you or … those still in hiding, who'd be willing to talk."

Arthur frowned. Was he talking about the druids? Having contact with them was forbidden. For Tagan to admit this to the King must mean he either had a death wish, or his message was dire indeed.

"They know better than to talk to a scribe, off course," Tagan said. "However, they do relish a good story and tell me theirs in return. Sire, what I have discerned concerns me greatly. Knowing what to look for, what to read, when to listen, I now see it buried deep within many a rumour. This particular strong whisper speaks of someone."

"Someone just as powerful as Sigan?" His father straightened. If that is the case we must find this sorcerer at once."

Arthur's stomach clenched with dread. They'd just survived a siege, a magical illness, and a dragon attack, not to mention Morgause's magically raised army. _Will this never end_? He definitely could do with a break. His father was right, the quicker this matter was dealt with, the better.

"You're not talking about Morgause, are you?" Sir Leon pitched in.

"No," Tagan smirked at the knight. "These rumours are far more unsettling."

"For God's sake, get on with it man!" His father ordered, clearly having lost his patience.

His father had lost his patience and Arthur had to admit he'd come close to threaten the scribe into getting to the point himself. Behind him, he heard Merlin shuffle on his feet. Now was not the time to look around though. He focussed on Tagan. When the man finally did come to the point, Arthur felt dread draining the blood from his face.

"Sire, they speak of someone… born with magic."

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes: **_Thank you so much for your reviews and encouragements. An extra thanks to those who pm'd me. Also, I'm honoured to see this story already attracted so many favs and story alerts. Thank you! I hope I will not disappoint you! Special kudos go to my beta Strut, who, when I started writing didn't know the show but erm… I think I kinda overrun her with it and then she went as far as buying the series. My deepest thanks, my friend. _

_Okay, on with it. This chapter and chapter two were originally one chapter. As a writer I usually write longer chapters but for Merlin I decided to shorten them in order to give me more time. Many of you commented on the time-setting between series two and three. For this story I just thought it worked best. Mainly because series two ended on such emotional turmoil. I just couldn't resist working that in. I know, it's only been two chapters, but I've already written up to chapter 7 and I'm really getting into it now! Hope you like it._

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Merlin was fascinated by Tagan. Imagine the stories this man could tell. When the scribe spoke, his words held a mystery and rhythm that compelled him to listen. He had expected to hear of another threat, of another sorcerer rising, like Nimueh, or Morgause, seeking revenge for having suffered at Uther's hands. He hadn't anticipated the last three words, spoken as fact, as something so dire it could bring down the entire kingdom. Hearing part of his secret thrown out in the open like that took him off guard. His breath caught, and the pitcher nearly fell from his hands.

Servants were supposed to do their jobs quietly in the background, invisible to those of higher birth. So luckily nobody had paid attention to him. Well, except for Arthur who Merlin knew was well aware of him. Also, Mathylda shot an occasional glance in his direction, so he fought to keep his expression in check. His stomach rolled as he uneasily switched his attention from one to another. If Tagan knew of this part of the prophecy, then what else had he learned? Once again Mathylda's gaze settled on him before moving on. He swallowed, pulled himself together and proceeded to watch as Uther slowly leaned in.

"That's impossible." The King looked thoroughly taken aback.

"Magic isn't something you're born with, it has to be mastered," Arthur voiced what was common knowledge. "From what I've heard it requires years of study. Those that practice do so for a reason."

Tagan nodded. "Imagine the consequences should such a person exist, My Lords. And I have no doubt that he does. To one born with magic, it comes naturally. He does not need to practice, does not even need to voice an incantation. Casting a spell, especially the simple ones will not tire him in the slightest. To such a person, magic is _instinct_. In time, the powers of this creature will far exceed Sigan's expertise, and may even rival the powers of the great dragon."

Dazed by the depth of Tagan's knowledge, it was all Merlin could do to keep still. He didn't dare refill their goblets, not sure if he could keep his hands steady.

"And you're saying this… sorcerer already exists?" Arthur sounded worried.

Tagan nodded. "Rumours speak of a male, one that will over time become more powerful than any sorcerer known to men."

Uther slowly sat himself down. "If you are right, this might be the greatest threat Camelot has ever faced."

"It is worse, Sire. I have travelled far and wide to uncover the truth behind this story. I have laid bare part of a prophecy. My lord, these whispers are old, and foretell him returning magic to the land."

Merlin sucked in a breath, setting his attention on the scribe again. If the man also knew of Arthur's destiny to reunite the land of Albion, then there was every chance Arthur would be diverted from that path for good. A small voice told him that he should be careful, for if Tagan knew that much, the scribe could make the connection from the prince to his servant. Not that Mathylda did not already. That's why her gaze unsettled him so much, he thought. She was looking for a sign of magic. Tensing, he quickly tried to assess whether she had any powers of her own. If she had, she could easily root him out. He released a breath. There was nothing, or if there was, it was too low for him to register.

"Wait."

Merlin looked at Arthur. With his back turned, he couldn't see his friend's expression, but the confusion in his voice was clear.

"You said this sorcerer will become powerful 'over time'."

"A warlock, sire." Tagan corrected. "Make no mistake, he is already as powerful as Sigan, maybe even more so, but from what I have gathered, I do not believe he is adept enough, strong enough yet to make his move. For whispers say he's still young, too young."

Merlin felt his stomach do another somersault. Knowing of his true age, things started getting hairy.

"Then we must do everything in our power to find him." Uther said, obviously seeing all that he'd worked so hard for fall to pieces. "He must not be allowed to live."

"How do we find him?" Arthur pondered. "If he doesn't need to practice, doesn't need to devote himself to the old religion, then he could take up any other job. He could be anyone."

"You are correct, My lord. However, this also gives us a starting point."

Uther frowned. "How so?"

"You are forgetting that he is born with magic. It is part of his physical being. Which means he cannot live without it. Whoever this is, has to use his power at least once in a while. It is who he is, it is instinct. Magic to this creature is as essential to him as eating, breathing or sleeping. He will die, pine away if he cannot use it."

Merlin's stomach had stopped rolling, instead it felt frozen in place. Was this true? He had never stopped using magic long enough for that to happen. Why would he? An uneasy feeling rippled toward the surface. He'd once told Gaius that if he couldn't use magic, he might as well die. Had it been more than just his low self esteem telling him he was no one, a nobody if he couldn't do magic? Or had it been his self preservation talking? His will to live?

"This means I have tell tale signs to watch for," Tagan went on. "He probably has a low position to keep from getting noticed. He's destined for your downfall, My Lord," Tagan addressed Uther. "So he is probably already in the city, maybe even the citadel. And he is young, therefore he will make mistakes."

Yes, he did. He had. If Tagan would start to investigate, being a scribe, he would probably start with stories told here at court. Judging by the man's power of observation, it wouldn't be long before he'd focus on all those little incongruent details, which to any other person were perfectly explainable. But to Tagan, they would not add up. And he'd be right. His only consolation was that neither Mathylda nor her cousin seemed to be aware of Arthur's part in the prophecy. For his friend's sake, he had to keep it that way, so he forced himself to calm down.

"He's already here?" Uther looked taken aback. "So it couldn't be that boy druid who escaped us a while ago?"

"Not according to my research, no," Tagan explained. "Whoever this is, has kept himself well hidden, but do not worry, My lord. Eventually his instinct will betray him. I can find him, provided you agree to one thing."

"Anything," Uther immediately declared.

"In my search I may find other sorcerers, those that dabble in the old religion, or those that practice the healing magics. I cannot stop to have them executed, I cannot be bothered with them. If I would, it might tip our hand, our suspect might flee."

Uther sat back, pressing his lips together in thought.

Merlin stared at him, hoping for once that the King let his fear of magic rule his decision making, like it always had.

"Arthur?"

Merlin was surprised when Uther asked for his son's advice. Surprised and worried, because being far more level headed than his father, Arthur would see the advantages of Tagan's tactics.

"Father?"

"I know we cannot afford to grow lenient in our task to destroy the evilness that has infested our lands," Uther said. "This case however, might call for a different approach.

Arthur nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It might be worth letting the smaller prey go in order to get at the bigger game."

"Very well." Uther turned back to Tagan. "You have my permission to pursue this matter as you see fit." He looked up, addressing all those present in the room, including the guards at the door. "Word of this to anyone will be seen as treason on pain of death."

Tagan bowed. "My Lord."

"Let us hope we can remove this threat to Camelot as soon as possible," Uther said, before dismissing the session.

Merlin was glad to follow Arthur out the door. He felt drained, as if he'd been fighting of another round of sleeping spells cast by Morgause.

"Merlin!"

He turned at Mathylda's voice, ready for whatever it was she had to say.

"All staff is to be assembled at noon in the great hall. Be there."

He nodded mutely, the trouble she could give him as the new head of household not seeming nearly as worrisome anymore as the one he faced coming from Tagan. He wasn't easily scared, and when he did, he usually feared for someone else, Arthur, Gaius or Gwen. But he couldn't deny the danger he was in. If he wanted to keep his friends safe, he'd better tread with care from now on.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

_I deliberately had them know at the start of the story that they're looking for someone born with magic, because this gives me a chance to dig into what sets Merlin apart from other sorcerers. The show tells us some, but I might draw my own conclusions from that. Please tell me what you think so far. I would love to hear your input. _


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's notes: **Do you know that feeling when all of a sudden you just stumble upon a title that suits the premise far better? No… oh, well, it happened to me. Usually the right title hits me half way through a story. So, this is early days, but this is it. Manifest. Don't worry, I will not change it again._

_A big warm hug to all my reviewers! You guys are wonderful, and make me want to write more. To be honest I never expected this much interest in my first Merlin fic, so I want to thank you, thank all who alerted and faved, and all those pm'ing me! So, on to chapter 4. Now, is the last of the 'building-the-plot-line' chapters. Which, unfortunately also means it's sort of an in between chapter. I rewrote this a LOT! After the beta-work! So all mistakes are mine. Thank you Strut for your comments, betawork and suggestions!. Now, let's get on with it, so that afterwards we can move on to the good stuff!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

"_Fordwin Wamm," _Merlin whispered, then quickly looked over his shoulder, making sure Arthur hadn't heard him. He'd meant to do this last night, but had been so tired that he didn't even remember dropping the scrolls on the table, let alone him hitting his bed. Forewarned against using magic, he only dared do so now because he was in Gaius' chamber, picking up the plans while Arthur waited outside.

"Come on, Merlin! I don't have all day!"

A smile cracked his lips at Arthur's impatient shout. The prince stood just outside the door, obviously not having seen anything.

"One moment!" He rolled out the parchments, making sure that after having them dried out over night, his magic had gotten rid of any left over mud ruining the ink. As dry as a crisp, the scrolls looked properly cleaned.

He turned to hand them over to his friend, who looked upon them with suspicion. Apparently satisfied with the state the scrolls were in, Arthur headed down the corridor.

"Why thank you, Merlin. Oh, that's okay, I'm happy to oblige," Merlin muttered under his breath before following him. Arthur was to meet with the overseer again, this time on the top of what was left of the western battlements. After that, Merlin still needed to clean the prince's chambers, and polish his armour. All of which needed to be done before he was to head over to the council chambers at noon. The sun's bright light reflected sharply off Camelot's white walls, causing him to squint as they crossed the main square.

Arthur made his way toward the western defences, and from there took the stone steps hugging the wall. "When we get up top, watch your footing," his friend stopped and turned. "Parts of the wall are still unstable. It would be just like you to trip, and dislodge the whole thing."

"I highly doubt that's possible." Merlin blurted out, knowing full well that as Camelot's first knight, Arthur was aware of the castle's defences. "The castle wall's twenty five feet thick"

Arthur shot him a puzzled expression. "I'm just saying, be careful."

"If this is your way of telling me you're worried, why don't you just say so?" He snapped. "I know I'm clumsy at times. I don't need you to rub it in."

Arthur stopped. The condescending grin on his face warring with a tired expression. "What?"

Merlin immediately regretted his words. First of all because he was suppose to be careful, and second because Arthur didn't deserve this. Still, no use in taking back his words now. "You heard me."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but instead of giving him the expected slap on the head, his expression softened. "This is about Morgana, isn't it?"

A pang of loss he had no right to feel worked its way up to his throat. Despite being thick-headed, Arthur did tend to pick up on his distress, which is why Merlin withdrew when he wasn't sure he could keep up his subservient appearance. But he didn't deserve his worry, couldn't tell Arthur that, of course. Still, if he lied now, Merlin knew he would lose some sort of battle he was fighting, so he pressed his lips together and looked away, not able to bear the grief he saw reflected in his friend's eyes. He hated to feel so convoluted, so detached.

A shout from above saved him from having to answer.

"Sire!"

Merlin craned his head to see the overseer -a sturdy bald man in his thirties- standing on top of the stairs, drawing Arthur's attention.

"You'd better come and see this."

* * *

><p>"Just… be careful," Arthur hissed over his shoulder, not waiting for an acknowledgement he knew would never come. Merlin's unexpected loss of temper upset him more than he cared to admit. For somebody like Merlin, who'd led a sheltered life, and was carefree by nature, it was clear the last few days had pulled the rug from under his feet. Arthur hated to see him like this, and for a moment wished he could have spared Merlin recent events. A small voice inside told him that it hadn't been his choice to make, but he squashed it. Merlin just had to learn how to cope in his own way. So for now, he let go of the enigma that was his servant and hurried his way up top.<p>

"What is it, Leoned?"

The normally level headed overseer looked ill at ease. "I will show you, My Lord."

Leoned led them over the intact portion of the battlements until the ground fell away into a gaping hole the size of a gateway. Arthur stopped short of a ragged edge, where stones were blackened due to dragon's continues barrage. "You're saying the damage is too extensive?"

"It's not the damage that worries me. It's what we've found underneath." Leoned nodded for Arthur to take a look.

Great, as if he hadn't have enough to deal with.

"Be careful." That wasn't sarcasm.

Belying the earlier tension in his voice when he lost his temper, Merlin now sounded remarkably strong, ready to jump after him should the wall give way. Not that this would accomplish anything. Arthur flicked an eye in his direction, acknowledging he'd heard.

"We've checked, Sire," Leoned said behind him. "The wall is safe on this end."

After taking a few steps forward, Arthur peeked down to survey the damage. The gap's circumference looked like the jagged edges of a torn piece of parchment. As if a giant had come and wrenched the top half off of the wall with such ease that it had broken huge stones in two, leaving what was left of the destroyed wall sharp etched, and very dangerous. Shifting his attention toward the wall's insides, he was taken aback to find it wasn't just blocks of charred rock he was seeing.

"What are those?" Standing beside him, Merlin looked down.

Arthur would have jumped at Merlin creeping up on him like that had the horrific sight beneath him not taken his breath away.

Merlin's unease reflected his own. "That looks like-"

"-bodies," Arthur finished, standing back. At least half a dozen of them were pressed inside a slit deep in the wall. All that was left of them, were their dried out husks, and the rags they'd worn. He'd seen enough, though. He was too well educated in Camelot's history not to know who they'd been.

"Yes, but their clothes," Merlin whispered.

"I know." Arthur had hoped to keep this from him, but should have known that Merlin probably worked it out before he did. "They're servants. All of them."

* * *

><p>"I've known of some of the atrocities going on from before your father took over Camelot, Sire." Gaius stated, having joined them on top of the battlements at Arthur's summons. "But these unfortunate souls must have been put there when the citadel was first built."<p>

"I've been taught some of the castle's history," Arthur said subdued in the wake of their find. "Back in those days it wasn't unusual for a victor to kill off the entire staff of the one they'd defeated."

"You think they were still alive?" Merlin asked quietly.

Gaius nodded "They probably died of suffocation. That's why their clothes are so perfectly preserved. The space they were in was practically air tight."

"There could be more of them," Merlin pointed out.

"More of them?" Arthur stared at him, but all he got in return was his servant lifting his eyebrows. "_Mer_lin, please. I'm not in the mood for your usual prattle. _What _do you mean?"

"Well. You know… in other parts of the wall."

Trust Merlin to think of that. Appalled, Arthur shifted his gaze to the wall. "I_ really_ cannot go around and look for them." He took in the full length of their defences. "We're supposed to rebuild the walls, not break them down. We'll be far too vulnerable to an invading army." _Not to mention to this all powerful sorcerer Tagan's looking for_. A chill ran down his spine. They never did find out who released the dragon. Could it be that this sorcerer had already made his move? That he had been making moves for a long time now?

"Be that as it may, Sire," Gaius pulled him out of his thoughts. "We need to do something about the bodies down there."

"I'll have them removed," Arthur sighed. "They'll be given a decent burial before reconstruction begins. It's the least we can do for them."

* * *

><p>The thin piece of wood in her hand was but half an arm long. Mathylda treasured the spindle with its intricate carvings all along its rim. While the round protrusion in the middle kept the thread from running down the spool, its slightly wider tip was sharp edged and converged in a point. She ran her fingers down the carvings. Empty of thread, this spindle was the perfect disciplining tool. She'd been using it for ages and it had never failed her. Standing by the window in her chambers, she pressed the tool to her lips. "What do you think?<p>

"You were right." Tagan stood behind her, fingers dipped in a small chest he'd put on the table. "He's here."

She turned to face him. "I take it you already know where to look?"

"I've done my rounds. The boy servants are our best bet." Tagan closed the lid. "We have to proceed with caution though. This creature has been here for a long time. He'll not fall into our trap likely."

"Then how?"

"What would cause you to lose your concentration, Mathylda? What would make you fall back on your instinct?"

She thought it over. "Hunger, thirst, fatigue, depravation, hurt."

He nodded. "We'll start there, start small. We'll wear him out one step at the time. Before long he'll tire, and then all it takes is one little mistake."

"Oh, don't worry," she smiled, holding the spindle up to the light in order to fully appreciate its beauty. This tool had been in her family for years. "I know exactly how to achieve your goal."

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

_**A/N**_: _So, next time, the fun begins, for us that is, not for Merlin…_

_(Edit: Thank you ONC for pointing out that little detail. I don't normally change things afterwards, but I did change that line.)_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_I honestly never believed this story would get so much attention. Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews! You inspire me to continue and help make this a better story. Thanks as always goes to my beta Strut. Now, work has been absolutely crazy, my head is full, I feel awful, but I thought I really needed to update, as promised! Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Shuffling inside the council chambers behind the other servants, Merlin noticed every candle, every torch was lit. Dust particles floated in the sun's rays as it being noon, light streamed unencumbered in from the windows. Not a shadow was to be found, making him feel thoroughly uncomfortable. All he saw joining him were boys around his age. There were around ten of them. He recognized Arthur's previous servant, Manfred, standing to the far end as he got in line. Elliot, the kitchen boy stood next to him, but the head of stables wasn't here, nor were any other older men. Where were the maid servants, the kitchen wenches, the launder girls? Come to think of it, the pages, and those of noble birth sent to court to serve as part of their education weren't here either. Although he was glad that Gwen hadn't been summoned, for she could do without whatever Mathylda had planned for them, a feeling of foreboding clenched his chest.

This was a select group of people.

Tagan's words drifted back to him. _He's young, therefore, he'll make mistakes. _Could the scribe have made his pick this quickly? Sure enough the man in question entered first, followed by Mathylda, confirming his suspicions. He felt his heartbeat quicken. This was not about the new head of housekeep introducing herself. This was the perfect setting for Tagan to observe them.

"What do you suppose he got in there?" Elliot looked wide eyed at the small wooden chest Tagan carried.

Merlin shook his head. "I don't know." The scribe dropped the box on a wooden table that Merlin had never noticed there before. Apart from the thrones -looking old and lost in the bright light- the council chambers usually didn't hold much furniture. So Tagan must have put the table in front of them especially for this occasion. Sensing the boy's distress, Merlin tried to calm him. "Don't worry. It's going to be fine."

Elliot relaxed.

The kitchen boy was far younger than him, more of Mordred's age than his, and at times reminded Merlin of Will. It wasn't safe to remember his friend now though. He was having a hard enough time hiding his feelings of late as it was. He jumped when Mathylda drew their attention by hitting the table hard with what looked like an empty spindle that Merlin had once seen Gwen use in her capacity as a seamstress.

"You will not speak, unless spoken too." Mathylda walked toward them, her step echoing in the oppressive silence of the hall. She moved purposefully down the line and back again, her features tight, her eyes holding no warmth whatsoever. "You will not look any noble men in the eye, unless an answer is demanded." She stopped in front of him, addressing him directly. "You will not eat, sleep, or drink, unless they grant you permission. Do I make myself clear?"

Merlin stared at her. Was she serious? Quick as a whip snake, she lashed out at him with the spindle, hitting him full in the face. His jaw exploded in pain, causing his eyes to water. He cradled his cheek and felt a blood trickle down his chin where the spindle's sharp edged tip had broken skin. Shooting her a hurt glance, he was too shocked to pay attention to his magic rallying inside.

She watched him, her voice turning deceptively soft. "Did I give _you_ permission to look me in the eye, Merlin?"

Part of him refused to buckle down, give in to her demands, but his sensible part told him this was a dangerous game he was playing. He opened his mouth, realised how close he was to releasing his power, so pulled away, reeling in his magic. "No, My Lady." He lowered his head.

All nine boys beside him followed his example, dipping their heads to their chest. As manservant of the prince, Merlin knew some of the younger boys at least held him in high regards, though he'd never done anything to encourage that behaviour. Elliot was one of them. He hated to let the boy down. He'd had no choice though. Not if he wanted to remain at Arthur's side. Biting his lip to keep from looking up, he could almost taste the fear in the air.

"That's better." Mathylda huffed, addressing all of them. Raising her voice, she stayed where she was, her heavily scented perfume –as opposed to the soft scents Gwen wore- adding another level of unease to his stinging cheek and watering eyes. "My name is the Lady Mathylda. I am here to run the royal household." She paused and moved away. "So far, I am not impressed with what I have seen. The orders I have given are only the first, and until you know how to serve, showing the proper demeanour and respect this court deserves, more measures will be taken."

Merlin swallowed. How was he going to help Arthur if he wasn't allowed to look at him, let alone speak to him?

"From now on you will answer only to me. That goes for you too, Merlin."

Something deep inside rebelled, something that wouldn't let her cut him off from Arthur like that. He quickly swallowed away the comment nearly spoken under his breath, not relishing another whip of her spindle. "Yes, My Lady."

"Good. Now that this is clear to you, we can continue. You may have noticed not all members of the household are present in this room. The reason for this is that you are young, your eyes are quick, and your position is low enough to know exactly what is going on at court." She paused to let this information sink in. "Now, we all know magic is evil."

Nods everywhere.

"I can't hear you! Look up, and repeat after me."

Forced to do as he was told, he lifted his head along with the others and gazed at Mathylda, aware of Tagan watching him closely. Hating every word, Merlin was careful to keep his frustration from his face, because in this light, every twist of muscle would show. "Magic is evil," he chanted, every servant beside him sounding like they relished the phrase.

She looked pleased and backed off toward Tagan. "To aid the King in his efforts to rid the land of this evil, he has chosen you to be his eyes and ears." Since Merlin was present at their audience with Uther this morning, both the scribe and Mathylda would be aware that he knew what 'evil' they were looking for. Tagan and Mathylda glared at him, as if daring him to say something.

He watched them, warily.

"In order to help you achieve this goal, I give you Tagan, who will explain matters further," Mathylda stood aside and let the scribe step forward.

Tagan pointed at the dark wooden chest on the table, its frame braced with black steel. "I want you to come forward and pick up one of these." He opened the lid and took what looked like an amulet on a chain from the box.

Merlin could feel its power, his senses homing in on the object the moment the chest opened. Nausea rose. He hoped Tagan hadn't noticed and pretended he didn't taste bile rising in his throat. He was relieved to see that Elliot and the others were equally mesmerized by the amulet. For entirely different reasons, he guessed. Most of them had never seen anything this pretty. But at least their interest had masked his slip up.

"Elliot," Tagan bellowed in that deep voice of his.

Hands clenched in front of them, Elliot looked reluctant to step forward. Merlin noticed he was shaking and felt sorry for the young boy. Slowly, Elliot took the amulet from Tagan´s hands, then returned to his place.

"Merlin."

He walked over, feet feeling like lead as if his magic tried to root him on the spot. His eyes met Tagan. The scribe nodded at the box. Only years of hiding who he really was, kept him from showing any hesitation. Ignoring his instincts shouting hell and fury to get away from there, Merlin kept a straight face and reached inside. He touched a chain and lifted the object from its place. What he'd designated as an amulet was a small rectangular green crystal. The stone's magical power was fairly low, almost non existent if he had to be honest. Certainly not enough to warrant the warning bells going off in his head. He studied it, confused.

"Put it on," Tagan ordered.

Reluctantly he lowered the chain over his head. Expecting the crystal to dampen his powers or something, he was surprised to find his magic was still there, still easy to rally should he need it. Nothing had changed. As another servant was called forward, he went back to stand in line, not ready to breathe a sigh of relief yet.

"These crystals do not have any magic of their own," Tagan voiced what Merlin had already deduced. The scribe handed out the last one to Manfred. "Which is why the King allows me to use them." He closed the lid and started walking down the line. "They are however, sensitive to magical powers." Some of the boys stiffened.

Merlin glanced from the crystal to Tagan and back again.

"No, it's not dangerous," the scribe answered the obvious question hanging in the air. "All the stone does is detect active magic found in its proximity, nothing else." A grim smile contorted his features. "If a powerful sorcerer were to be standing with us in this room now," Tagan observed them, "he would be experiencing a low level of nausea. That's the stone, reflecting his magic back to him. The more powerful the sorcerer, the stronger the nausea." When no one reacted, Tagan continued. "Otherwise, the amulet is harmless. When magic _is_ used, the stone will start to glow. This too will cause you no harm. All I'm asking is that you will investigate. The stone will keep glowing until you report back to me."

Tagan made it sound so simple. Elliot nodded, tension draining from the boy's face as the meeting came to a close, but Merlin felt frozen to the floor. That's why Tagan had summoned them. If the scribe's theory was true, that he would start to get sick if he couldn't use his powers for a prolonged amount of time, this was a good way to suss him out. Because wearing this crystal, although not a threat in itself, meant he couldn't use magic, couldn't even light a torch to save the day, couldn't protect Arthur.

"You are to wear your amulet visible at all times," Mathylda added. "If we find any of you without, punishment will be severe, for we will have to assume you wish evil upon this kingdom."

Merlin was silent as he left the room. Tagan was far more clever than he'd anticipated. He needed some advice, needed to talk to Gaius. Because he knew he couldn't keep his magic repressed forever. Especially with Arthur's tendencies to walk into a trap once a week. For now though, he could only hope they wouldn't make him wear this crystal indefinitely.

* * *

><p><strong><em>TBC<em>**

_A/N: I promise, Arthur will be back next chapter.  
><em>Edit: Thank you Alia Inverse for pointing out what wasn't clear. I have changed a line concerning this above. <em>_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews! You've been a big help and very supportive! I've made a minor change to the previous chapter concerning the amulet on Alia Inverse's remark. Thank you AI! Okay, enough talk. On with it. I rewrote this a gazillion times. I had it written from Arthur's POV at first but that made Merlin look far too much a victim. So this is how it turned out in the end. I'm pretty happy with it. Hope you are too! Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Having spent part of his morning running back and forth between the battlements and the citadel on Arthur's command -in order to get these bodies properly taken care of- meant Merlin hadn't been able to do any of his usual chores. So before going to Gaius, first thing to do was clean up the prince's chambers. At least that would keep his mind from his churning stomach. From what Tagan told him, he figured his nausea was a result of the crystal reflecting his own magic back to him. clenching the amulet between his fingers, he fought the urge to rip the thing from his neck. After all, who was going to notice while he was in Arthur's rooms? He shook his head and let go. Gaius would have his head. He couldn't risk exposure like that. For now, the only relief he was going to get from feeling sick was in the safety of his own room.

Another thought occurred to him. He had enough control to not let his magic fly during the night, which is why he felt perfectly safe sleeping in the company of others, but that didn't mean his powers didn't stir while he slept. His heart sank. Even if he could find a way to keep his own amulet from detecting his powers, found a shielded hiding place, all it took was one servant to burst into Gaius' chambers. One moment of carelessness, and this servant's amulet would start to glow. He couldn't keep track of every servant in the castle. Nor did he know the range of these crystals. All he could really do was tighten his control. If he quelled his powers, the nausea should dissipate. So for now, he focussed on the tasks at hand. Despite his current predicament, he actually looked forward to do some empty minded cleaning, away from Uther, Mathylda or Tagan tightening the net around him. But when he entered Arthur's room, it wasn't the mess he found that drew his attention.

"Merlin." Standing in the middle of the chamber, Mathylda spoke deceptively calm. "So glad you could join me."

Reluctantly, he closed the door behind him.

"Come forward."

He stopped a few paces away from her, noticing the spindle in her hand. She really didn't go anywhere without, did she? It didn't take a genius to guess what she was so upset about. No use in antagonizing her even further, so he lowered his head and braced himself.

"Tell me." She started circling him as if waiting for her prey to make a wrong move. She motioned around the room. "What is this?"

He couldn't help but shoot her a half-hearted smile. "It's… Arthur's chambers?"

Her face reddened. "These are the rooms of your royal highness, Prince Arthur."

Ready to dodge another whip from the spindle, no matter that this would probably enrage her more, he still flinched when she lifted her hand. Instead of lashing out, she pressed the thing's sharp tip against the gash on his cheek, drawing fresh blood.

"You will address him as such."

He winced at the pain enflaming his skin but kept a tight control on his magic, because she was clearly testing his reactions.

"The bed's unkempt, clothes have not been laundered, and the floor has not been scrubbed."

She moved a few paces away from him.

A sound drew his attention to the door. Arthur walked in. Not wanting the prince to get in trouble with the head of household and therefore the king, Merlin reluctantly gave in to Mathylda's demands and kept his eyes on the floor.

Arthur stopped, looking from one to the other. "What's going on here?"

"Sire," Mathylda bowed her head in deference. "As you can see, your servant has not performed his job this morning. I was merely disciplining him."

Merlin bit his lip, unsure how Arthur would react.

"With all due respect," The prince looked around. "I needed him somewhere else this morning."

"Than he was suppose to do his chores before waking you up, Sire."

"You hear that, Merlin?" His friend rounded on him, sounding teasing. "Before waking me up."

Merlin was about to nod when a wave of nausea hit him. Confused, because he wasn't using magic, at least not consciously, he willed down his powers. It helped, he didn't feel as sick anymore. "Yes, Sire."

Obviously disappointed that his attempt at banter didn't even get a look of resentment in return, Arthur sighed. "Can you at least look at me when I'm talking to you?"

Lifting his head, he caught Arthur's triumphant look, a split second before the man's expression changed into something Merlin had only seen a few times on the prince's face, and most of those times had him really worried. "It's not as bad as it looks, Ar-" He caught Mathylda's glare. "Your highness."

"What is this?" Arthur sounded so polite that Merlin thought he'd imagined the brief flash of concern tightening his features.

"He's addressing you with your proper title, Sire," Mathylda answered.

Without warning, Arthur grabbed his chin with both fingers. Far more gentle than Merlin had anticipated, the prince studied the left side of his face and frowned. "Did you have another run in with the floor this morning?"

Merlin gave a thin smile. "You know me."

"So, what you said this morning on our way over to the battlements-"

"You were right, I'm clumsy."

Arthur looked suspicious but seemed to buy his light hearted answer, until the prince turned around and caught sight of the spindle. "Wait," he sounded bewildered. Even from here, Merlin noticed traces of blood on the spools sharp tip. "You hit him?"

He had been hit by Arthur plenty of times, but half of those hits were dealt on the training field, and the other half were the prince's convoluted way of communicating with him. In his heart, Merlin knew his friend would never hurt him, least of all with the sheer malice Mathylda had done.

"He's not a very good servant, my Lord." Mathylda stood her ground. "He needed to be disciplined."

Merlin felt a pang of hurt as Arthur seemed to contemplate the situation. He shouldn't have been surprised though. Friend or not, he was still just a servant, and Mathylda was a guest of Camelot. The prince couldn't afford to make a point out of this.

As Arthur walked up to her, Merlin suddenly felt sick again. As if something inside snapped back to its natural state the moment he lowered his guard. Focusing inward, he pushed his powers down to where he barely registered them himself. He didn't like it. His magic was part of him, part of his soul. He'd always known that. Which meant his attempts to quell his powers needed to be continuous. He could not keep that up forever. A loud snap -the sound of wood breaking apart- tore him from his thoughts. He stared at Arthur in astonishment, at the spindle he'd yanked out of Mathylda's hands. Now broken in two.

Obviously, the prince was far from calm.

Mathylda's eyes had gone wide, shock riddling her features as Arthur shoved the two halves in her face. "If you _ever_ hit him again," Arthur said in a cold voice, emphasizing every word with a move of the broken spindle. "I. Will. Make. Your. Life. A. Living. Hell. Is that understood?"

Worry for the prince replaced concern for his own safety. Knowing Arthur, Merlin had figured that sooner or later his friend needed to rip into something or someone. Probably on the practice field. But in the end, he had expected Arthur to vent his grief and tension on _him_. Gods knew he deserved it. Never in a million years had he expected Arthur to lose his temper _over_ him. Least of all to someone like Mathylda. Which spoke volumes of how tired his friend must feel.

Mathylda lifted her chin. "Your father granted me authority over all the staff," she glanced at Merlin. "That includes your manservant. He answers to me. If his incompetence continues, and I'm not allowed to discipline him, then I'll be forced to replace him." She straightened, looking brave enough. "Your father-"

"Merlin is my responsibility. Not my father's, and _not_ yours." Arthur retorted. "You want to discipline him? You'll find another way," he hissed, throwing the two halves down between them on the floor.

_Another way? _"What?" For a second he couldn't keep the hurt from surfacing. As Arthur faced away from him, the prince didn't notice.

"Merlin," Mathylda intervened. "After you've finished tonight in these chambers, I want you to report to me. Without delay."

Having dreaded something like this, Merlin nodded.

She frowned at his lack of deference to her title but didn't say anything else, gave one last curtsy to Arthur and left the room.

"You shouldn't have done that," Merlin said staring after her.

"If I hadn't agreed to some of her methods she would have replaced you."

"That is _not_ what I meant. She seemed awfully fond of that spindle." He gave a thin smile.

Arthur turned, surprise gracing tired features. "Didn't you hear what I just said. She would have replaced you. I wouldn't have been able to stop her."

"You mean, you'd miss me?" Merlin threw his friend a lopsided grin.

"Or maybe," Arthur said, breezing passed him. He sat down behind his desk. "I just don't feel like breaking in another servant right now."

"Like Cedric?"

Arthur winced. "You just had to bring him up, hadn't you?" He sighed. "Look, I'm pretty sure all you'll be getting tonight is a tongue lashing of some sort. Or she may let you do some chores for her. Just let her. Keep your head down, will you?" He frowned as if noticing the amulet for the first time. "_What_ is that."

"Oh, it's nothing. One of Tagan's methods to find this sorcerer. All servants are suppose to wear them."

"Ah yes. My father told me Tagan had resorted to using jewellery. Well, as long as it isn't magic…"

"Repels it, I think. It's supposed to glow when magic is used."

"Really?" Judging by the way Arthur stared at the amulet, his respect for Tagan seemed to rise a notch. "That's a very handy piece of crystal." The prince tore his gaze away, picked up his quill and pointed the feather in his direction. "Go see Gaius. Get yourself treated, then finish your chores." He surveyed the room, drawing a disgusted face. "Mathylda was right. This place is a mess."

"Yes, Sire." Merlin turned short of the door. "Arthur."

His friend looked up.

"Thank you."

Arthur waved him away.

Merlin left the room. Maybe his mentor could help him come up with a solution concerning the amulet around his neck. He only hoped he wouldn't run into Tagan or Mathylda on his way over.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

_**A/N:** I hope Arthur isn't too OOC. I figured he was tired and grieving, and therefore had a moment where he drops his princely demeanour. Also, I just couldn't resist the opportunity! : - ) And it created this marvellous friction between him and Mathylda. Please let me know your thoughts! Thank you for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:** Thank you all so much for your reviews, alert and favs! I was pleasantly surprised that you thought Arthur is in character. It's treading a fine line with him. It's a challenge to write. So, there's more of him in this chapter. This one took a long time to get right. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Gaius' chambers were too small to handle all the wounded after the dragon attack, so Arthur had ordered the sick beds set up in one of the citadel's ground floor rooms. Having just finished cleaning the bandages of the man lying unconscious in a corner of the room, Gwen looked up at the sounds of footsteps.

"Gwen, have you seen Gaius? I can't find him anywhere."

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she took in Merlin's appearance. Layers of dust greased his breaches, tunic and jacket. His dark hair pointed every which way, as if he'd just gotten out of bed. His normally sparkling blue eyes seemed dulled. Though, she admitted to herself, she wasn't currently a sight for sore eyes either. Blood spatters greased her dress and hands, and she felt worn out. But that didn't keep the shock from her face. "What happened to you?"

"What?"

She couldn't tell whether Merlin looked paler than usual because he covered one side of his face with his hand. She reached out but he pulled back.

"Oh yes. That. Arthur had me running around the destroyed battlements all morning and then well, I had a nasty run in with the ground."

Was it her imagination or did he brush over this so-called incident with a bit too much ease?

"Gwen, what about Gaius?"

Unconvinced he was telling the truth, she dipped a clean cloth into a bowl of water next to her on the bed. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Apparently some of the surrounding villages also suffered from the dragon's attack." She stood up to gently pull his hand away. A nasty cut ran the length of his cheek bone, red and swollen, the wound was clearly infected. Although she'd seen far worse these past few days, worry rose, but she got a grip on herself and wiped the dried blood from his face. "Gaius went to treat the wounded and do his rounds after that."

He looked pained.

For a second she thought she'd hurt him, so she pulled her hand back. "Why, what's wrong?"

"For how long?"

His anxious tone of voice drained away, sending her worries into overdrive. Merlin knew how long a trip like that would take. He knew the answer as well as she did. "A couple of days. He tried to find you. But perhaps you'd been summoned to the council chambers by then."

He nodded and took in the half a dozen wounded occupying the beds. "Will you manage by yourself? Do you want me to do something for you?"

A tired smile tugged at her lips as her heart warmed. No matter how he felt, he still thought to offer his help. She didn't dream of taking him up on it though. "There's no need, thank you. The last of the severely wounded died this morning. As awful as that sounds, this means the worst is behind us. You know Gaius wouldn't have left otherwise." She sighed. "Besides, what else am I to do? At least the work keeps me occupied." She covered his wound with a herbal disinfectant.

"You haven't met Mathylda yet?"

"Not yet. Seeing as Morgana is gone, I'm probably being overlooked." She wasn't remotely sorry if this was the case. "I'm sure she'll get around to me sooner or later."

"I'm sure Morgana's okay," he whispered.

She nodded. "Arthur will find her," she spoke with conviction. "He will not rest until he does." Her attention was drawn to the crystal around his neck. "I heard Tagan made you guys wear that."

"Yes." He took in a deep breath. "I have chores to finish, but my offer stands. If you need me?"

"Go," she smiled. "Arthur probably needs you more than I do." She felt glad he was there to help. Like he always was. Another worry wriggled its way to the surface. "How is he holding up?"

Merlin shrugged. "You know him." He didn't elaborate.

When it came to Arthur, Merlin never divulged too much information. She understood, for as servants they had a certain integrity to protect. Guess she just had to find out for herself. Cheered up at the prospect of looking up the man she loved, she nodded, let Merlin go and went back to work.

* * *

><p>Here and there a few candles lid the dining hall, but supper had tasted bland to Arthur. They'd burned the desiccated bodies in the square, and he couldn't get rid of the lingering smell.<p>

"What news so far?" His father took a sip from a goblet as they exchanged daily reports.

The king enjoyed the comforts of a good wine in the evening, but Arthur doubted this was the case now. Irate tension in his father's voice betrayed he had little patience dealing with this recent threat of this sorcerer born with magic. A few days ago, Arthur had caught his father staring out the window, concern for Morgana contorting his features. He'd hated to see him like that, felt the same burning need to find her. "I've talked to Geoffrey, Gaius and Tagan here, father." He nodded at the scribe sitting across from him at the table. "Whoever these servants belonged to was betrayed from within."

Truth to be told he'd spend most of his time with the court genealogist, which really wasn't how he liked to spend his afternoons. He'd contemplated letting Merlin do the job, his servant seemed to revere books, but the man was behind on his chores as it was. Although his confrontation with Mathylda was one he'd just as soon forgot, it had clarified Merlin's position. They couldn't be friends, not ever. And if Arthur kept allowing him in, trouble would rise. Like today, when he'd realized Mathylda had hit Merlin hard enough to draw blood. He shouldn't care, couldn't afford to care.

He'd seen red.

That couldn't happen again. He attributed his fall out to lack of sleep, and his sense of honour. Servants just didn't get this kind of mistreatment in Camelot. Spending his time in the hall of records had set his thoughts straight, so that he could focus on their latest findings again. "The castle was under siege, about to be over run."

"Are you sure?" His father seemed to take an interest. " I've been told this citadel has never been taken."

"The citadel as you know it didn't yet exist back then," Tagan pitched in. "The castle only had one defensive wall plus a few stables and dwellings housing the staff."

His father sat back. "How long ago was this?"

"We can only guess," Tagan shrugged. "Probably somewhere around Sigan's time."

"We only know this much because from that day on, albeit sparingly, records were kept up to date." Arthur explained. "Apparently the ruling king got wind of a traitor in their midst. Fear ran rampant. There wasn't enough time to do a thorough search, so in an effort render this traitor harmless, he rounded up most of the staff and had them locked up."

"Not executed then?"

Arthur didn't always agree with the harsh measures his father took to protect the kingdom. But executing your entire household went beyond any mistreatment of servants he could think of. He thought he smelled the burning bodies again. "No."

"Well, no wonder the castle fell," his father spoke in that condescending voice of his. "Do you see, Arthur, why it is important to sentence those suspected of treason to death at once?"

"Yes father." He reluctantly admitted. "In the end Camelot was conquered." When no one commented, he went on. "In order to heighten defences, the victor then had an extra wall built, lining the one already standing, thereby creating the ramparts as well as more 'storage' area. He must have found the servants in the dungeons and thought them too much of a liability to keep around."

"And the source of the betrayal?"

"We don't have any names." Arthur sat back. "Just facts."

"From what little we've been able to gather, there was sorcery at hand," Tagan offered.

"Just as I thought." His father fell silent for a while, mulling things over. "If we're not careful, history will repeat itself. We must protect Camelot at all costs."

Tagan nodded. "I couldn't agree more."

"Are you making any progress finding this sorcerer?"

"It has only been a day, Sire." Tagan wiped his mouth. "But I've managed to narrow down the list. Just as in the past, all evidence point toward those of lower standing."

"Good." His father sounded pleased.

"Sire, if it's all right with you, I want to start questioning those on the list on a more personal level."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "Are you sure that's w-

"I couldn't agree more," his father interrupted him. "Use the dungeons, it's what they're there for. Arthur, I want you to make sure Tagan gets everything he needs. He'll be reporting directly to you."

Not thrilled at the prospect of hosting these angst ridden sessions wasn't the only reason Arthur hesitated to comply. "Father, as soon as I'm done here, I want to ride out to find Morgana."

His father's jaw tightened. Arthur held his gaze, let his guard drop a little. He expected a short answer, a stern non-negotiable negative, but instead, his father's face softened.

"More then anything I would have you search for her."

Not having anticipated his father's sudden sympathy, Arthur found himself listening, knowing what was to come.

"But I have a kingdom to protect," his father pressed. "I cannot let you go until this sorcerer has been taken care of. You have a responsibility to your people. They rely on you to keep them safe."

Knowing how much Morgana's loss had affected his father, Arthur admired his strength now, his ability to put the needs of his people before his own. As a good King should. He doubted he'd ever be that strong. If finding those bodies in the wall had taught him anything it was that they could not let their guard down. He shivered at the thought to how close they'd come to losing Camelot in the past few days, how easily their enemies had gained entry using magic. A sorcerer growing as mighty as Tagan had foretold, could wipe them out in one fell sweep. Especially if he'd already infiltrated the royal household. They needed to find him before he got powerful enough to do so. That didn't make staying put any less painful. The longer they waited, the colder Morgana's trail went.

"We have patrols out there," his father spoke as if reading his thoughts. "Sooner or later, they will find her."

He nodded, then faced Tagan. "When will you start?"

The scribe had stayed silent. Arthur caught him studying him, apparently following the conversation with interest. "First thing tomorrow."

Arthur eyed the man, warily. Tagan was after all an expert in finding out the truth behind words. He suddenly wished he'd had this conversation with his father in private. "When you say, of lower standing, who exactly are we talking about here?"

No answer.

"If I'm to sit in, I need to know the details."

"Leave us." His father addressed the guards and servant present in the room. "Tagan," he commanded.

"Very well." The scribe leaned in. "All evidence point toward your household staff, my Lords."

"Our staff?" Arthur didn't know of anyone among them, who fit the description of a sorcerer born with magic.

"There's three of them I want to question first thing in the morning."

Arthur found Tagan studying him once more, the scribe's face unreadable. However, he'd been trained from birth to keep any discomfort from showing, so Arthur rewarded the man with an unreadable expression of his own.

"Your previous manservant, Manfred. Elliot, the kitchen boy, and Merlin."

He briefly faltered before he managed to regain his composure. Arthur was sure Tagan had noticed though. The thought that Merlin was a powerful sorcerer was ludicrous. Almost hilarious even. It brought a smile to his face. "Merlin is loyal to a fault."

Tagan leaned back. "Oh?"

"I trust him with my life."

"I'm not saying I suspect him, Sire. I merely want to question him."

"About what?"

"As your personal servant, he's been present at most of the events that have taken place recently. He may have seen something, heard of something that will lead us to this sorcerer. Tell me, would you say he's a perceptive sort of lad?"

He was, actually. But Arthur wasn't about to tell Tagan that. "He has seen all I've seen. I doubt he could tell you anything more than you already know."

"You'd be surprised, Sire. I've learned to listen to what's not been told, rather to what is. Also, sometimes people are not aware they've seen anything at all, until I point out the obvious."

Arthur didn't like it, but also couldn't see any fault in what Tagan what saying. It made sense Merlin might have seen something. "All right."

"Excellent, I will round them up tomorrow."

"No, I'll bring Merlin in."

Tagan shot him a stern look but Arthur held firm. Not even his father could persuade him from this. He was tired, and didn't feel like explaining himself. It had nothing to do with Merlin having wormed his way into his life. He was _his_ servant. It was the honourable thing to do.

His father waved the problem away, obviously finding it unworthy of his attention. "See to it, Tagan."

The scribe bowed in deference, shot Arthur one last look and left the room.

To be honest, all Arthur wanted now was a hot bath and his bed. It took another half an hour though, to relay the last of his reports concerning some skirmishes in the lower town. Finally, he gave his father a respectful nod and headed for his chambers, not seeing how this week could possibly grow any worse.

* * *

><p>Her most treasured possession, cleaned and oiled with care for years, now lay broken before her on her desk. Every time Mathylda set eyes on what was left of her spindle, anger boiled inside, and she had to reprimand herself that a tug-of-war between her and the prince of Camelot was not going to get her what she wanted. "And?"<p>

Tagan sighed. "Arthur is hard to read. Even for me."

"Not from where I was standing," she said, fury dripping from her voice as she recalled how he had the gall to discipline _her_!

"He has a strong sense of justice, Mathylda. I've told you that, before."

"Yes, but will he be trouble?"

"I do not think so. He carries a heavy burden of responsibility. His concern for Camelot will help us rein him in. Today's meeting told me that much. As long as we stay on Uther's side, we have all the leverage we need."

She nodded. "We cannot keep this charade up forever, Tagan."

Tagan glared at her. "Don't let this incident with Arthur get to you, Mathylda. Don't do anything rash! We need the sorcerer if we want to succeed."

"Oh don't worry. The prince told me to find another way. So I already have." A cruel smile twisted her features. "In fact, this will give me the opportunity to get even better 'acquainted' with the boy."

"I don't care how you do it, Mathylda. Just make sure to prepare him for tomorrow. If all goes well, we should get our first_ taste_ of victory then."

Mathylda watched him leave. Smiling in anticipation, she waited for Merlin to arrive.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

_**A/N:** __All Merlin next time, I promise! _


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I feel blessed to receive so many reviews, alerts and feedback on this story. It's wonderful to be able to share our love for these characters. Thank you. Update next week might be a little later due to me having to work overtime and my beta is indisposed. I'm wishing her all the best of luck at the mid-west horse fair! After that I'll be back on schedule._

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Making his way to Mathylda's chamber, Merlin thought of his mentor. It wasn't that he couldn't take care of himself, it was just that Gaius was the only one present who knew of his magic. He could do with some advice. If only Kilghara was still here. But the dragon was gone, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake, and he wasn't sure he would ever see him again. His chores had taken him all day to finish. Arthur had ordered him not to be present when he returned. So after making sure the bath he'd prepared was still hot enough around the time he'd anticipated Arthur to be back, Merlin left to handle Mathylda's call.

He hoped that whatever tasks she had in store for him wouldn't take too long. He longed for the security of his room to take the amulet from his neck. His feet felt like lead. The thing seemed to have grown heavier as evening progressed. He'd debated replacing the crystal with a fake one, but even if he knew where to find an exact replica of this stone, there were still the amulets of the other servants to consider. What if he ran into the kitchen, for instance, to get Arthur's diner, felt safe -because he was wearing a fake crystal- and forgot to quell his powers? Elliot's amulet might start to glow, panicking the staff. Fear of discovery was also why magic wasn't his first choice to do his chores. He couldn't take the risk. His stomach rumbled, reminding him to get something to eat soon.

Mathylda's rooms were situated near the servant's quarters. Which made sense, seeing as she had to oversee them all. As he neared, he found two guards standing near the doors. He wasn't surprised to find _them _here. These were Uther's men, the ones he liked to use when rounding up those suspected of magic. They thrived on strict hierarchy and held no love for Merlin, or for any other servant in Camelot.

They eyed him warily when he walked passed.

He knocked, then entered at her call, stopping just inside the door. Shadows blanketed her room, the only light dispersed by two flickering candles, one on her desk, and one on her bedside table. Mathylda turned to face him. To his dismay, he noticed she was dressed for bed. He swallowed away a bile of fear as numerous unpleasant scenarios fluttered thought his mind. With his magic incapacitated, albeit of his own doing, he felt vulnerable. Just in time he remembered to lower his gaze to the floor.

"Merlin."

Her small cool smile sent shivers up his spine.

"Come here."

His power rose, and he let it, just enough to keep the crystal around his neck from glowing. It did detect something though, for nausea started to rise with vehemence. But he took it in stride.

She stood firm. "You're from Ealdor?"

He met her gaze. What did that have to do with anything? "Yes."

"So you never had any proper training when you arrived here two years ago?"

Ah, so that was it. "No."

"And yet you landed the job as manservant to the prince. I hear because you saved his life?"

"The king appointed me, yes."

"And you think this sets you aside from other servants? That this gives you permission to treat the prince with disrespect?"

"No," he said, adamant.

Her eyes narrowed. "From what I've seen so far you lack discipline, lack skill to be a true servant. Bowing in deference is not second nature to you." She sat down on the bed. "You have to agree to that."

He hesitated, not wanting to give her anything resembling a truth.

"Answer me."

If he acknowledged this much, it might keep her off his back, keep her happy. "Maybe."

"Good. We're going to change that." Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "You want to keep your head up? You're going to keep it up all night."

He stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me, Merlin. If Arthur does not let me discipline you, I will have to condition you." She lifted her feet onto the bed and covered herself with a blanket. "You will stay awake. Every hour the guards will come in to check on you. If they find you've lowered your head, if they find you asleep, they are under orders to wake me."

He'd wanted to believe Arthur when he'd said Mathylda was only doing her job. But this. He'd once seen Camelot's dog handler use this technique to train one of his more stubborn hunting hounds. The man had deprived the dog of sleep and food until she gave him what he wanted. It was inhumane, and Merlin had gone out of his way to sneak the poor beast some food at night. His voice grew hoarse. "How's that going to improve my performance?"

Her eyes drifted toward her desk where Merlin saw the two halves of her spindle lying scattered between her belongings. "It is to teach you your place Merlin." She glowered at him. "Perhaps after having kept your head up all night, you'll learn to lower it when this is expected of you. Believe me, after tonight, you'll want nothing else." She caught the stubbornness he sent her way. "If you will not learn, another night will follow. If you prove too headstrong to be taught, I will replace you and move on to other servants in this household. Elliot for instance."

He feigned nonchalance. "Elliot?"

"You watched out for him during the assembly today. I have studied your behaviour. You care. Do you want me to focus my attention on the boy? Or how about on one of the girls. I believe Guinevere was her name?"

He nearly grinned. "If you want Arthur to lose his temper completely…"

"What was that?"

His face fell. "Nothing." Every inch of him defied her, but he couldn't let her replace him, which potentially could cost Arthur his life. He also felt guilty enough without adding Elliot to the list. So it was with reluctance that he finally admitted this small defeat. "What Ar- prince Arthur did was my fault. There's no need to bring others into this."

"Then you'll do as I tell you to do?"

He glared at her.

"Good."

* * *

><p>Merlin fought to keep standing. It wasn't just sleep haunting him. He'd gone plenty of nights without, but quelling his powers like this? For the whole night? As he grew tired, he found it harder and harder to keep his powers dozed. He'd never thought about how much his body depended on his magic to keep him going.<p>

Alone with his thoughts, isolation fed into him, and he found himself more lost than ever. All he'd wanted was a land where magic was accepted. Where he wasn't an outcast, wasn't seen as the evil Uther had made his kind set out to be. Over the last months he'd come to realize that this wasn't all that drove him, though. More than anything he wanted Arthur to accept him for who he really was. Marked by the guards checking up on him, the hours slipped passed at a snail's pace. Now and again, his tight hold over his magic slipped, making him feel sick and miserable.

He stared in the distance, fighting to keep his eyes open until the first traces of sunlight graced the stained windows, dousing the room in a myriad of colours he was too tired to appreciate. Not wanting to give Mathylda the satisfaction of seeing him fail, he kept his head up, waiting for her to stir. When she finally woke up, he stood exactly where she had left him.

She didn't even take the time to look at him. "I'd say it's time to do your chores for Arthur," she spoke from her bed. "Slack your duties again, and you will report to me again tonight." She waved him away. "You're dismissed."

He nodded and left the room, nearly bumping into the maid servant in the hallway sent to tend to Mathylda's needs. Jerking her breakfast plate out of the way, she shot him a confused glare. Probably because he'd appeared out of Mathylda's chambers. Not having the energy to explain himself, or make up a story, he moved quickly passed her toward the kitchens to get Arthur's breakfast. He swayed for a second, had to stop to lean forward against a pillar. Careful not to let his magic re-energize him, he took a couple of deep breaths. It was hard. He felt so drained. But he stubbornly held fast, until he was clear-headed enough to proceed with his duties. This was going to be a long day.

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><p><strong><em>TBC<em>**

_A/N: It's off topic, and I don't want to give away spoilers, but I saw 'Parked' last night. And can I say… damn… I know I shouldn't swear, but… damn…_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Notes: **I'm back! So sorry it took me such a long time, but I did warn you it would take a while longer. To appease you I could give you all Dutch cookies, but I decided to award you with a longer chapter instead. Now, I would like to thank those of you who pm'd me over the passed few weeks. You know who you are. I'd make a list but I'm afraid I'll forget one. Thank you! With ALL my heart! You're the reason I keep writing! Then there's my beta. Thank you, for making me laugh! _

_Onto the story: I've changed Elliot's age to him being more of Mordred's age. No whump, just lots of bromance in this one folks!_

_Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

"Arthur, wake up."

Arthur opened his eyes to find Merlin standing by the window. His servant turned away before he could catch his eye. Looking around, the prince noticed the room was clean, smelled freshly scrubbed, and breakfast was waiting. "Merlin, what are you doing?"

"My duty. Isn't that what you wanted?" He moved through the room.

Arthur grinned. "Aha! Mathylda's methods are rubbing off on you." He fell back into his pillows. "Finally, some decent service for a change."

"Will you be wearing your armour today? Merlin snapped, as if his servant hadn't heard him. "After all, you need to spend some time on the practice field."

"You do remember who you're talking to, right? Hang on. Are you saying I need practice?"

"No, no," Merlin lifted his hands. "Well, maybe. You used to train every day. So any time you feel the need to beat me up." He opened the wardrobe doors. "Just say so and I'll be at your back and call."

"All right." Arthur swung out of bed and rubbed his neck. He frowned when Merlin disregarded several shirts by throwing vehemently over his shoulder. "Who are you, and what have you done with my servant?"

"What?" Merlin turned toward him, shirt in hand.

"Do I need to spell it out? What is wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing. O-kay." He paused to stand up. "Yes, I'll be wearing my armour, and yes, I expect you to accompany me to the field later." Then he noticed something, which honest to God he'd never see him do before without sufficient reason. Like when Aredian had accused Gaius of sorcery. Or when that dragonlord had died. But in those instances, it had always been about other people. The man was just too sensitive for his own good. "Merlin," he furrowed his brow again. "_Why_ are you trembling?"

He yanked his hands behind his back, shirt and all. "Oh, that. It's nothing."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh, throwing him an opening. "Practice can't be that bad."

"You try seeing it from my end of things," he said, dropped the shirt and closed the wardrobe doors. "Armour it is then."

"Mathylda didn't hit you again, did she?" He thought that sounded casual enough.

"What? No, no. I told you. It's noth-"

Arthur lowered his voice. "If you're going to tell me 'it's nothing' one more time, I'll have you run ten laps around the training field with a shield on your back." So he'd promised himself to keep his distance. But he hadn't liked the submissive look on his servant's face yesterday, and he didn't like his startled look now. "Honestly, Mathylda's only the head of household. She can't make you that scared."

"No! Of course not." Merlin gave a lopsided grin. "Sorry, I just haven't slept well, I guess."

He could relate to that. He'd also been restless in his sleep, had woken up a lot. "She must have given you some lecture, then."

"She made her point," he sounded, obviously not wanting to go into detail.

Arthur refused to feel guilty and moved on. "Good, now, help me get dressed." He pondered on how best to break the news that Tagan wanted to see him. He'd planned to be straight forward from the get go, but Merlin, and his disconcertingly out-of-character-bad-mood, deserved perhaps a bit more diplomacy. His servant helped him in his breaches, padded shirt, chainmail and armour. Half dressed, Arthur waited for the rest of his outfit but none was coming. "Merlin."

His servant stood by the table, deep in thought. "What?"

"What is wrong with you today! My boots, my sword belt?"

"Oh yes, sorry."

Merlin handed him his belt, but Arthur crossed his arms.

"Do you want your belt or not?"

"I want to know what it is that you're not telling me."

"It's noth-" He clamped his mouth shut at Arthur's glare, then cocked his head. "You're not usually this persistent. There's something _you're_ not telling me. Isn't there?"

"No." Which was a stupid thing to say. Irritated at Merlin having turned the tables on him, Arthur released a breath. "All right. Yes. Tagan wants to see you."

"Tagan? What does he want with me? You know everything I do."

"You're not under suspicion or anything. He just wants to question you, seeing how as my servant you have the run of the castle. You might have noticed something we missed."

Merlin stared at him. "And you believe him?"

"I have no reason not to."

"If he wants to see me, than he suspects me."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's only doing what the King has asked them to do. If it's any consolation, I won't let him carry his interrogation too far."

In a perfect mimic of Arthur's exasperation, Merlin rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's okay, then. He'll just stick to thumb screws and other unmentionables in order to drag out what he wants to hear."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "Will you _stop_ exaggerating? It'll only take half an hour at most, after that, I promise, I'll take you out onto the practice field."

Merlin groaned.

Arthur didn't feel one bit of remorse at his servant's dismay. He couldn't afford to. So him forgoing breakfast didn't have anything to do with a nagging doubt that maybe Merlin was right. All he knew was that he wanted to get this over with quickly, so Tagan would see reason and they could all get on with their lives.

* * *

><p>Falling in step behind Arthur, Merlin thought of Tagan. The man wasn't a witch finder, but he'd learned to be more careful since then. One little mistake -conjuring a horse from the smoke because he'd felt tired of hauling firewood, of being just a shadow- had ended in near disaster. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to get into trouble because of him. In a way he felt relieved that Gaius wasn't here. At least now his mentor couldn't be questioned by Tagan. But that also meant he needed to keep his wits about him.<p>

If he told Arthur about the night he'd had, his friend might try to put a stop to it, but Mathylda would then go over his head to Uther. And Arthur would be in trouble. Also, another confrontation between the prince and the head of household could cause Tagan to grow more suspicious of the influence Merlin seemed to have over the prince. Not that he thought he had any. Sometimes, he felt his friend saw him for who he really was. Other times it was like he ran into a wall, and was slowly becoming the shadow he pretended to be. Battling a headache from stiff muscles and lack of sleep, he wasn't registering where they were going, until Arthur descended down toward the lower levels. "This isn't the way to Tagan's quarters," he hissed.

"He's not _in_ his quarters."

Merlin halted in his tracks.

Arthur kept moving. "He's in the dungeons."

"Oh, this just gets better and better."

"Will you stop worrying!" Arthur swivelled on his heels. "And for God's sake, stop shaking. Quivering like a little girl will not get you into his good books!"

That did it. "I can't help it! I haven't had breakfast yet!"

"Neither have I. You don't see me nearly fainting from lack of sustenance. Buck up!"

Merlin bit his lip, but in the end kept his mouth shut. Lack of sleep couldn't be the only reason why he felt this awful. Both Gaius and the dragon had told him he was a creature of magic. So dousing his powers couldn't do him much good. He hoped he was wrong, but feared that eventually, he would start to get sick. They reached the lower levels just in time to hear running footsteps coming towards them. Rounding a corner, Elliot swerved to avoid them. Red rimmed eyes set in a tear streaked face glanced up at them. Noticing it was Arthur he'd bumped into, the boy stammered an apology, but before any of them could say anything, he was gone again.

Gwen came running around the corner, her face a mask of concern.

"Guinevere?" Arthur stopped her.

"My Lord," she curtsied. Then her eyes darted from one to the other. "Did you see where he went?"

"What? You mean the larder boy?" Arthur looked confused.

Merlin stepped in. "Gwen, what's wrong?"

"I just came from the kitchens and was about to go upstairs when I heard crying. I found Elliot just up the corridor. He told me Tagan had a talk with him. He was so upset."

"Did he hurt him?" Merlin pressed, her concern echoing inside him.

"No," she took a deep breath. "No, I don't think so. It's more shock than anything else. Tagan pushed him a little too hard. Elliot's probably heading for the kitchens. I need to find him."

Merlin shook his head. Not only was he worried, he also needed to be sure that the boy was out of Tagan's line of fire. "Don't worry." With disregard to the consequences, he ran after Elliot. "He trusts me. I'll find him."

* * *

><p>"Merlin!" Arthur threw his hands in the air, muttered a colourful insult under his breath and, seeing as he didn't have a choice, looked around. "Guards!"<p>

"What are you doing?"

"I know you mean well, Gwen." He shot her a sideway glance. Where were those guards when you needed them? "But I'm under orders to bring him in."

"Then you should go after him yourself." She shot him a reprimanding glare. "He's having a rough enough time as it is!"

"If you're talking about Mathylda, I'm doing everything I can to keep her of his back."

"I just came from the kitchens. Bertha told me that aside from getting you your breakfast, Merlin hasn't been in the there for days."

He shrugged. "There was no need. I ate with my father. Guards!"

"Did Merlin?"

"How am I suppose to know? He eats with Gaius most of the time."

She crossed her arms. "Gaius is away."

"Yes, well, I suppose he's man enough to eat on his own."

"He hasn't."

He blinked, really looking at her now. "Are you sure?"

"He hasn't taken food from the kitchens."

It all fell in place. The tremors, the surly attitude. He tensed, trying to think of the last time he'd seen Merlin eat something. Certainly not yesterday when he had dragged his servant out of bed himself. The day before, maybe. But he couldn't have eaten much. Which meant it had been at least two days. He clenched his jaw.

"Unless he's taken food from your plate? But Merlin isn't like that."

He shook his head. Judging by the full plate this morning, Merlin hadn't. "He could have snatched something from home. I'm sure Gaius didn't leave his cupboards empty."

"Arthur, Mathylda hasn't let him."

He threw his head back in exasperation. "Why didn't he said something?" Annoyance turned into anger, simmering just below the surface. "He told me, he skipped breakfast this morning. Not two days worth of meals."

"You know he's not going to complain to you about it."

No, especially not after he'd shouted at him to get his act together. And for all his loyalty, Merlin was also as stubborn as his father's old warhorse. He suddenly felt exactly like he did years ago as a kid, on the brink of a massive temper tantrum. He'd learned to channel his anger since then, albeit mostly on practice dummies and, though he loathed to admit it, sometimes on Merlin. But he would never take that too far.

"There's more."

Dumbfounded, all he could do was repeat the word. "More."

"One of the maids spotted Merlin coming out of Mathylda's rooms this morning. I don't think she let him sleep."

He stared at her. "Right." No wonder Merlin snapped at him this morning. A small voice told him that he should feel honoured that his servant felt safe enough with him to be like that, instead of becoming totally submissive after Mathylda's treatment, but all he saw was the injustice of it all. His muscles tightened as anger filled him, drowning out what sure as hell couldn't be guilt. He shouldn't care, but he did. He could never allow himself to show his concern though, so he focussed his rage on Mathylda and the methods she used. He paced off.

"Where are you going?"

"I guess I'm going after him." He stopped, then traced back his steps. "Guinevere." His worry for her took the sting out of his voice. "If Mathylda tries _anything_ like that on you, don't hesitate to tell me."

"She hasn't. She hasn't even introduced herself to the maids yet, let alone to me."

"Good." He felt something inside harden. "I'll make sure it stays that way."

* * *

><p>Busy with their day to day chores, the kitchen staff pain no attention to him. "Elliot?" Merlin inquired.<p>

Bertha, the small but feisty woman in charge, pointed at the supply room. She looked annoyed. "In there."

Sure enough he found Elliot sitting in a corner, hidden behind half a dozen fruit-filled baskets. He didn't say much it first. It was only after he offered the boy an apple that Elliot looked up at him. Hesitant to eat, because Bertha didn't allow theft from her kitchens, Elliot held the fruit to his chest.

"Don't worry," Merlin sat back on his haunches. "I'll just tell Bertha that Arthur got hungry. He gets really cranky when he hasn't had his breakfast yet."

That drew a smile on Elliot's face and he started to talk. Gwen was right. Tagan hadn't hurt him, but had pushed hard to get him to admit he was the sorcerer they were looking for. Elliot snivelled. "I'm not a sorcerer."

His small voice tugged at Merlin's heart. No, Elliot wasn't. But he was. "I'm sure Tagan knows now that you are not." He couldn't let Elliot suffer because of him. "You are very brave."

He got a fierce not in return.

Merlin left him munching on the apple, then walked outside the kitchen and leaned back against the wall. It felt like Gaius and Aredian all over again. He needed to find out more about the scribe and Mathylda, about their motives, before he could risk using magic. Something about them felt off. For all he knew they might want to use his magic for their own ends. So confessing might endanger his friends, might put Arthur's life in danger. He prided himself for not losing control last night, but it had been hard. He closed his eyes, trying to think through his headache. He couldn't postpone his session with Tagan much longer. Something clattered on the small table against the wall to his left. Jerked from his thoughts, he found Arthur standing in front of him, and he didn't look happy.

* * *

><p>Merlin couldn't have gone far. For all of Mathylda's accusations about his serving skills, or lack there of, he was always there when Arthur needed him. Sure enough he found his servant leaning against a wall a few feet away from the kitchens. He refused to acknowledge how worn out Merlin looked. Having closed his eyes, Merlin hadn't noticed him. Arthur grabbed a plate of food from the hands of a passing chambermaid, and with a loud clang dropped it on the table next to them. "Why didn't you tell me you haven't eaten for days!"<p>

Merlin jumped, but then seemed to get a grip on himself quickly enough. He looked away. "There was no point."

"No point!" After all they'd been through, the siege, the dragon, Morgause's attack, Merlin still didn't think he could trust him? He saw red. Fear of how powerless he felt crept into his voice. Or perhaps it was the recent loss of his step sister that caused him to lose control, for he was shaking as hard as Merlin was. "What good are you to me half dead!"

All kind of emotions fluttered across his servant's face. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? I'm having enough troubles to deal with, without you starving yourself into a stupor out of some twisted sense of loyalty!"

That got him a reaction all right. Blue eyes deepened with a pain, telling him he'd actually struck an unfair blow.

He didn't apologize, he had every right to be angry. Camelot was known for treating its servants well. So he had a reputation to uphold. This didn't have anything to do with worry, or loss, or the fact that there were but a few people in this household he could call a friend. He stepped back, because if he didn't, he would have smashed his fist into the wall. He hadn't even mentioned his servants apparent lack of sleep yet. That would have sent his rage over the edge, and… that wasn't Merlin's fault. It was his.

Merlin sighed. "It wasn't … something to concern you with."

"What if Guinevere hadn't told me?" He kept his voice as calm as he could muster. "You would have just what? Drop dead in front of me at some point?"

"I wouldn't have let it go that far. I'm not an idiot," Merlin smirked. "I'd have eaten something sooner or later."

Arthur shook his head, then caught his friend's gaze. There was a strength there that told him Merlin was telling the truth. He stepped back as the rage drained out of him. What was wrong with him of late? He shouldn't have blown up in his servant's face, shouldn't have lowered his guard like that. So then why had he bothered to bring Merlin a plate of food? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I was suppose to bring you in half an hour ago."

"Ah right, the torture session. How could I forget."

"For the last time, Tagan just wants to ask you a bunch of questions. Now eat up." He pointed at the plate with some cheese and bread on the side table with a dismissive wave, hoping Merlin didn't read too much into it. He was out of luck, off course.

"What, you're serving me?" Merlin stared at the plate, then back at him. He cocked his head. "You were really worried about me."

"Don't be preposterous. All I'm doing is disapproving of Mathylda's methods. You're just a pawn in my game to head her off. Now hurry up. If I'm gone for much longer my father will have the guards start a search."

"If he thinks I'm a sorcerer than maybe he assumes I've kidnapped you," Merlin mumbled standing there, begrudgingly eating small bits at a time. He looked tired, but rather smug.

Arthur harrumphed. "As if you could ever get the drop on me!"

"Gwen's okay, right?"

"Don't worry. I won't allow any harm to come to her."

"But with me, it's fine." It wasn't a question.

"You're not a girl, Merlin. You act like you've got something to hide!"

"I don't trust Tagan!"

Arthur fell quiet, after what Mathylda did to him, his servant had a point. "If I don't bring you in, he'll grow suspicious."

"I know."

Merlin's firm resignation not sitting well with him, Arthur drew out the word. "R-right, are you finished?"

"Yes, let's go," he snapped.

Arthur stared at him, then pushed his apprehension aside and led Merlin back to the dungeons.

* * *

><p><strong>Tbc<strong>

_**A/N:** So, Merlin is holding his own right now, you're entitled to disagree of course, but to me that shows he's showing plenty of strength. Next chapter will be even more challenging for him, so angst ahead. Also, more of Arthur (him finding out about the deprivation like this to me was the only way to go) and a bit of the plot will start to unravel. Hope you enjoyed this! If not, tough, this is the way it's going to be. _

_Now for the bad news, posting time, will be more wide spread from now on (As opposed to what I told some of you in a pm. Which is a good thing.) I'm non native English people. I need the time. Plus the plot is getting complicated so I need to write ahead. But on the upside. It means you'll be getting longer chapters! Hope to see you then!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's notes: **_Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! Your support means the world to me. So, here's the long awaited interrogation chapter. More angst than whump, still I'm giving you a warning, if you can't stand the heat, vacate the cooking area! Once again a thanks goes to my beta and all those who help me keep this story on track. _

_Enjoy._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Used to eating quickly, Merlin had expected to feel more invigorated. Instead, the food weighed him down, his limbs feeling heavy from lack of sleep. Perhaps he should have waited to eat until after his so called talk with Tagan. They entered the dungeons and headed for what he'd labelled the torture chamber beneath the citadel. Keeping his silence, he followed Arthur inside.

He felt it the moment he crossed the threshold. It felt wrong, like the place was cursed. He stopped short as if he was punched in the gut and had to keep himself from staggering back. Trapped in corners, shadows lashed out and retreated from the flickering torches set in brackets along the wall. The shadows seemed to take shape, sighing like tired old men, his breathing falling in step until Merlin thought he heard voices, frightened, and begging for help.

Tagan stood before a table in the middle of the room. He turned.

"Isn't that overdoing it a little, Tagan?"

Merlin latched on to Arthur's down-to-earth-remark, grounding himself. It worked. The shadows returned to normal as the sighs dissipated in the wake of the prince's voice.

"My father will not agree to this."

Curious, Merlin moved forward to notice the source of his discomfort, a large translucent crystal hanging around the scribe's neck. Its reflecting surface stood out against his robe, against the black-ironed clamps, chains, and other nasty torture devices dangling from hooks on the wall. The more he focussed on the stone, the more it pulled at his magic. He tugged back, causing him to feel even more sick as his power rose and fell like the air in his lungs.

Tagan bowed. "My Lord, the King agreed to the amulets. This crystal is meant to do the same. Meant to ward off magic, so that we can have this conversation undetected."

Eying the stone warily, Arthur stepped aside to let Merlin pass.

"You are late, Merlin."

Startled, he turned to find Mathylda standing behind him just inside the doorway.

"I have matters of state to attend to." Arthur cut her off, then went to stand opposite the door. "I need Merlin with me, so I suggest you get on with it."

Mathylda huffed, but didn't say anything else.

"Sire?" The scribe sounded confused.

"My father ordered me to see to these proceedings." Arthur nodded at Mathylda. "She, on the other hand, has no need to be here."

Tagan's face wrinkled in a false smile. "If she goes, than I have to insist you go. There can't be one rule for us, and another one for you. Unless you disagree, which of course is your prerogative, My Lord."

Out of everything Tagan could have said, Merlin knew Arthur wouldn't deny that statement. It was a decree by which he lived. Even more so than his father. Merlin bit his lip, not liking how the scribe had managed to manoeuvre his friend into a corner. Arthur was impassive for a while, then moved for the door, staring down Mathylda on his way out.

"Tagan?" Mathylda's face went rigid. "You can't seriously expect me to leave?"

The scribe glowered at her.

Her face went red. She turned on stiff heals and left. Which is exactly why Merlin knew Arthur had agreed to move out. At least he'd gotten Mathylda to come with him.

The scribe turned his attention on him. "Sit down, Merlin." He motioned to the table littered with scrolls, a chest twice as small as the one that had harboured the amulets, and, to Merlin's dismay, the two halves of the broken spindle. He stepped over the short wooden bench and sat down, unease rising as Tagan remained standing.

"So, tell me, Merlin," Tagan moved behind him. "Why did you decide to accompany the prince to face the dragon?

The question caught him off guard. The conversation he and Arthur had before they'd gone to face the dragon was a private one. He wasn't about to repeat it here. The whole of Camelot had seen them ride out. But none of them, apart from Gaius and Arthur, knew it had been his decision to make, not Arthur's. Tagan couldn't know. He was bluffing, was merely fitting the pieces together from stories he heard. Or so Merlin hoped. "I am his servant. He just thought I could help."

"But you're not a fighter." The scribe circled the table until he stood behind his chair opposite Merlin. "Judging by how Arthur treats his staff, you could have refused."

Merlin swallowed. "He's my friend." He immediately cursed himself for admitting his loyalty. Still, his sincerity could also persuade Tagan that he was not the sorcerer they were looking for. "I had to come. It was…"

"Instinct?"

"No. No, I care for his well being, that's all."

"Hm." Tagan sat down. You accompany him on most of his trips. Even the strictly confidential ones. That, Merlin, gives you a lot of power."

"I would never do anything to harm him," he offered meekly.

"So it wasn't you who caused part of the castle wall to collapse, nearly killing your prince?"

He frowned. Neither he nor Arthur were anywhere near the western walls when it went down after Kilghara's attack. "No, that was the dragon."

Tagan smiled as if he gained a victory. "I'm not talking about last week. I'm talking about when you let that girl… What was her name? Freya, escape."

He blinked. "What?"

"That was you, wasn't it?"

"No."

"And you didn't bring part of the wall down on top of those trying to fight off the beast she'd turned into? You were seen on the main square, Merlin. Was she worth it? Worth killing your 'friend' for?"

He felt his heart shatter at that. Yes she was… worth it, but not to kill Arthur. Never. He had thought about how close he'd come to give everything up, because Freya was… she was special. He knew that in the rush of the moment, in his fear of losing her, he'd brought down part of the battlement, and hadn't even stopped to see if Arthur was all right. She was the only one who'd understood him, the only one who knew what it felt like to be a monster. Caught between destiny and love, he'd done what he'd thought was best and had moved on."

"It was Arthur who delivered the killing blow in the end. Did you lose control? Sought revenge right then and there?"

He liked to think he'd magically shoved the prince out of the path of the falling stone but couldn't be sure. Doubt set in, causing him to grow quiet. He couldn't hide it from Tagan. "That wasn't me," he lied, but sounded unconvincing, even to himself.

Tagan studied him, let his gaze drift down toward his shaking hands. Quickly, Merlin tucked them under the table. "Good," the scribe smiled. "Now, we're getting somewhere.

* * *

><p>Arthur had to force himself to go, and not start pacing the guard room beneath him. He needed to spent time on the training field, so that was where he was heading. He was already halfway up the steps of the stone spiral staircase leading from the dungeons up toward the castle when Mathylda called after him.<p>

"As soon as Tagan has finished, I will return the boy to you, Sire." She stood at the bottom of the stairs.

He stopped, trying to calm himself but his efforts were in vain. "Make sure that you do," he breathed through his teeth, then turned and took the few steps down to face her. "You will also make sure to treat our servants well."

"Sire, I can assure you-"

"You will _assure_ them of their basic needs." He loathed the way she handled her profession, the methods she used to achieve her goal. Anger froze everything but the words spilling from his tongue. "You'll give them time to eat, and to rest. If I find you causing anymore ill treatment, you can go home and pick up your duties for my uncle again."

She pressed her lips together, grey eyes shooting fire. Arthur moved away from her, then stopped. "Oh, don't bother trying to persuade my father otherwise. We have always treated our servants well, he will agree with me."

"Unless they're under suspicion of magic, Sire."

Arthur tensed, knew she had a point. If he turned around now, he wouldn't be responsible for the consequences. Not acknowledging her retort, or the false deference he heard in her voice, he continued his trip up the stairs. Sir Leon could use some time on the practice field.

* * *

><p>"I've talked to many people, Merlin." Tagan's timbre compelled him to listen. "They say you looked quite upset."<p>

Merlin stared at the scribe sitting opposite him at the table. "When?"

"Getting rid of the dragon lord would go a long way toward bringing Camelot on the brink of defeat, wouldn't you agree? In which case your little sorrowful display in the throne room after you and Arthur returned was all just an act. Did you kill him?"

"No," he bit. Grief surfaced, for part of him felt so guilty. If they hadn't gone looking for him, his father would still be alive. But then Camelot would have fallen. His voice grew soft. "No." His magic rose, but he quenched it with sorrow.

Tagan picked up the broken spindle and threw it in front of him. "Can you fix this, Merlin?"

He shook his head. "I'm not a carpenter."

"But you fixed the scrolls." Tagan rolled out one of the parchments on the table, which Merlin thought the scribe had put there to write his findings on. Instead, these were the plans to Camelot's western fortifications. The ones he'd dropped in the mud two days ago.

How had Tagan gotten his hands on those?

"I heard you dried them overnight. How?"

"I…" his throat went dry. "I used salt."

"Strange, because according to Mathylda they were too damaged to ever be of use again. No matter what method you used to clean them up. She was there, remember?" He studied the parchments. "Yet, there's not a mark on them. You used magic."

"No."

Tagan leaned in and pointed at the spindle. "Fix it."

"I can't."

The scribe shoved himself back with force, his chair clattering to the ground as he pushed the table away from him. Merlin caught the edge before it slammed into him. Scrolls and spindle alike rolled madly until he steadied the top. The man's sudden burst of anger caused his powers to rise, but too accustomed to Arthur's mood swings -whether in training or in a fit of banter- he doused them and carefully sat back, waiting for the scribe to make his next move. This seemed to rile the man even more.

"I wanted to avoid this, Merlin." He walked up to the table to drag the small chest toward him. "But you leave me no choice."

Warily Merlin followed the scribe's every move.

As soon as Tagan lifted the lid, ice stole over Merlin's skin, made its way into his lungs, and caused his heart to thump loudly in his ears. Whatever was in there amplified the sighing shadows to the point where they tugged hard at his powers. He nearly retched but managed to stay grounded.

"Don't tell me you didn't feel that?"

"Felt what?" He spoke, his voice tight.

Tagan smiled, taking something small out of the box. A crossbow the size of his palm. In one fluent move he aimed and fired. Merlin flung his hand up, realized what he was doing and within a hairs breath stopped himself from freezing time. Only to have a sharp object hit him full force in the left shoulder. Pain radiated down his arm. He doubled over and pulled out a needle-like dart. It left a small but bleeding wound behind. He expected the dart to be poisoned but instead of falling unconscious he felt his magic drain out of him as fast as his blood flowed from the wound. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Gently, as if afraid to hurt him, Tagan took the dart from his hand.

Merlin gasped, coughed, and like a tidal wave, felt the shadows -a twisted sort of dark magic- reach inside, and withdraw again. His stomach rolled, until he threw up what little breakfast he had this morning.

"You didn't like that, did you?"

Feeling his strength return, albeit marginally, Merlin looked up at him with watery eyes. "What…"

"Don't worry, the wound's not deep. The magic my amulets reflect has to go somewhere." He lifted the translucent crystal around his neck to his face. "They are anchored to this blood crystal. In the end it would have turned red. But unfortunately for you, I grew tired of waiting for you to use your powers. You obviously keep them well doused." Tagan moved to tower over him. "The dart's laced with dark magic, its sole purpose to establish a connection between you and this beauty. You must have felt its presence haunting you." He stroked the stone as if it was a loved one.

Merlin looked away, his voice hoarse. "I can't give you, what I don't have."

"Not only does this blood crystal act as an anchor," Tagan continued as if he hadn't heard him. "But now that it has a trail of dark magic to follow, it will proceed to tare your powers away from you." He leaned in closer until Merlin felt his warm, stale breath wafting in his face. "Drop by drop."

As if on cue the sighing shadow seemed to penetrate him again with its icy tentacles, tearing his magic out as it withdrew. He doubled over again, while willing his powers down, but to his dismay, he found that he had no control whatsoever. It was as if the dart had pierced a small hole in his soul, and nothing he could do would stop his magic from draining away toward the blood crystal. Sounds of distress left his throat as pain shot through every fibre of his being. He was a creature of magic. His powers weren't part of his body, they were part of his soul. Ripping it away felt like he was dying.

Exhaustion covered him like a blanket.

He closed his eyes, heaving, desperately hanging on against the pull of the crystal. He couldn't stop the tidal waves, couldn't keep his magic down. Something deep inside stirred. An anger he hardly ever tapped into. Fighting to survive he let it flood him, but the added strength didn't help. Too far gone to act on anything other than instinct, he drew himself up. He screamed as his powers left him in a rush, only to return with such strength that he couldn't handle the impact. His body stilled and he lost focus. Everything grew quiet. He barely registered he was falling. The room whitened out of existence before he hit the ground.

* * *

><p>Tagan stared in shock at the boy lying still on the floor. None of the others had ever showed a reaction like this. Sure, they had fought him, but once their magic was gone the sorcerers had quickly resigned to their lack of power. They didn't suffer from physical consequences. They certainly hadn't lost consciousness. This was more like he'd broken through the wall of a well, its water spilling out with force. A shiver of exhilaration ran down his spine, at the amount of power Merlin must possess. He studied the blood crystal between his fingers.<p>

The stone was white. Not red. It was empty. The boy's magic wasn't there.

He took a step back, felt his face grow pale. That was impossible. Could he have been mistaken? Maybe this servant wasn't the sorcerer they were looking for? No. He'd done his job thoroughly. All leads pointed in one direction. Merlin. Besides, the dart's dark magic was working. He'd seen signs of the power draining out of the boy, seen him let go in the end.

But if Merlin had released his magic, the blood crystal would have soaked it up. As the stone was empty, the obvious conclusion was that the boy had no power. Or that it went somewhere else. Confused he ran a hand across his face and squatted, then reached for the amulet around Merlin's neck. It didn't glow. How? How was that possible? For the first time in centuries, he felt at a loss for an explanation. He didn't like this. Didn't like it at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Tbc<strong>

**A/N**: _I really like Freya, which is why I debated not using her as a means to get to Merlin, but in the end, Tagan would use her, so that's why I kept it in._

_So, Tagan shows his true colors, thereby also raising more questions than answers. Cookies for those who figured out what happened! Not that I'll tell you if you're right. That would spoil the story, but I'm interested in your thoughts!_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's note:** Thank you all so much for your generous reviews. Now, of all the suggestions I got as to what happened with Merlin's magic, only two of you got it right, one of them being my beta who just knows me too well. Some of you got it partly right. At the end of this chapter, if I've done me job right that is, you should know who you are. Thanks goes to my beta for helping me with the right amount of exposition. This chapter is a set with chapter twelve, so it might leave you hanging in the end. Enough talk. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Snippets of conversation drifted in and out of his awareness.

"Maybe he used the amulets to reflect his magic back to him, instead of into the blood crystal?"

"The amulets are anchored to the blood stone, Mathylda. Not to Merlin. Redirecting their focus would take a tremendous amount of power. The amulets would have glowed. There's nothing. He must have bypassed them, somehow."

Merlin was lying on something hard and uncomfortable, his face pressed onto what felt like stone. His left arm felt stiff and there was a dull ache in his shoulder. With a shock he realized he was still in the interrogation room. The last thing he remembered was his magic being torn away. He twitched, shivering at the memory of feeling ripped apart. But then his magic had slammed back into him. Was that why he'd lost consciousness? He drew inward for a while. His magic was still there. How long had he been out?

"So you say. The truth is you don't even know if he actually has any power."

Through barely lifted eye lids, Merlin noticed Tagan glaring at Mathylda. "I'm sure he's the one we're looking for, so we have to make him think it's safe to use his magic again."

Merlin shut his eyes when he saw feet.

None too gently Tagan yanked the amulet from his neck. "Now that we've marked our target, these are superfluous. I'll take them back from the rest of the boys too."

"Is that wise? What if you're wrong, and Merlin's nothing but a servant."

"I've never been wrong so far, Mathylda."

Relief flooded the young warlock at not having to suppress his powers so hard anymore now that the amulet was gone. According to what Tagan just said, as long as he didn't actively use his magic, kept it inside, he was safe.

But the moment he relaxed, he felt something dark tug at his barely re-established powers. Battling the aggressive pull, his magic coiled within him, making him feel nauseous. The memory of the dart, of its purpose, came rushing back to him. _It will proceed to tare your powers away from you. Drop by drop. _He panicked, fought to regain control, but unlike when his powers left him in one go, this slow loss didn't come rushing back to him. He had no defence against what felt like a calculated drain invoked by an almost sentient cruel magic. He moaned from the unexpected agony rippling through him as his magic funnelled toward the ache in his shoulder where it seeped out of him ounces at a time.

"Well, look who's awake." Mathylda looked amused.

Too late he realized he should have kept his silence. Now, any hope of finding out what these two were after went flying out the window. Giving up the pretence of unconsciousness, Merlin pushed himself up on his knees.

Tagan waved him away. "You can go. For now."

Wary of their tricks, Merlin watched them, his hand covering the small wound where the dart had broken skin.

"Oh don't look so surprised." The scribe looked down on him. "You might be strong enough to keep your magic from flowing down the conduit the dart created, but you can't keep it repressed forever. Sooner or later, you'll let go. When that happens, your powers will channel straight into my crystal."

Merlin frowned. Apparently the scribe wasn't aware that magic already slipped away from him. Or maybe the amount he lost wasn't enough for the blood crystal to detect yet. It was enough to make him feel light headed though.

"All we have to do, is wait for it to turn red," Mathylda added.

Slower than he'd wanted to, Merlin pushed himself onto his feet. "I told you," he sounded hoarse. "I don't have any magic."

"We'll see." Tagan nodded at the door.

As he walked out, Merlin half expected Mathylda to condemn him to another sleepless night in her chamber but no order was coming. Glad to be out of the dungeons, he dragged himself up the winding steps. Arthur's training session jumped to mind, but feeling as if he'd already suffered a massive sword blow, he couldn't bring himself to head for the field. So he made his way over to Gaius' chambers

He sat down on his mentor's bed and despite the pain in his shoulder, managed to pull his shirt over his head. The wound was small, not even warranting a dressing, except that it kept bleeding. Shivering, he ran a hand over his forehead. It was hot to the touch. He felt feverish, probably due to his body fighting off the dark magic's conduit like it would an infection. Every now and then he lost the battle and felt the sighing shadows claw out tendrils of his power. No matter how hard he tried- clamped down- his magic still siphoned off like a dripping water pump. Each time it happened, he felt more drained.

Deciding that he'd better take care of the wound in his shoulder before it could add to his problems, he stood up to get some bandages. He carefully dressed the wound and pulled his shirt back on. If only he could stop his magic from flowing out of him. He was strong enough to slow down the process, but no more. And even that took a tremendous amount of concentration. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up his strength.

He had no qualms that if he let his power rise, something similar to what happened when he'd lost consciousness would occur. He wasn't particularly keen to repeat that experience again. Besides, he had no idea _what_ had happened. His magic obviously hadn't gone into Tagan's crystal. It was returned to him. As opposed to what he leaked now. That wasn't returned to him. Instead it felt like some sort of balance was restored.

He had no doubt anymore that Tagan and Mathylda wanted to use his magic for their own ends. Otherwise they would have informed Uther of their suspicions by now and he would already be sentenced to death. Also, the scribe's interrogation would have intensified. Like the witch finder would have done. Tagan wouldn't have let him go. For now though, neither of them knew the dart's dark magic was doing its job, weren't certain he even had magic, which gave him the advantage.

A small voice reminded him he was due on the training field, but just then the shadows -the dark magic- pierced him again, causing his shoulder to blossom in a pool of hurt. He cringed, riding out the loss of power until nausea ebbed away. If this happened while in practice -not to mention one wrong blow to his shoulder would send him crumbling- Arthur would grow suspicious. He would demand he'd lift his shirt and notice all the other scars. Like the barely noticeable burn mark left over from his battle with Nimueh for which he could offer no plausible explanation. The last thing he wanted was for Arthur to lose faith in him.

Besides, he needed the time to do research. As powerful as he was, his first assumption that the blood crystal didn't detect the drain, no matter how small, seemed more far fetched by the minute. But if his magic wasn't soaked up by the blood crystal, then where did it go? He needed to find out how to block the drain, needed to know where his powers leaked off to, before Tagan would. The man was far too clever to stay ignorant for long, though. He had to hurry. So, if not his spell book, then perhaps the hall of records could provide an answer.

* * *

><p>"He's thwarting my every move!" Mathylda hissed as soon as Merlin had left the interrogation chamber.<p>

Tagan raised an eyebrow. "Merlin?"

"That good for nothing prancing prince Arthur!" She started pacing the floor. "I can't work like this. I can't discipline without breaking some of those spineless rules of his."

Tagan shook his head. "Mathylda." He grabbed her by the shoulders. "You did a good job last night. I think its time we moved on."

"What are you saying?"

"Merlin's our best bet. He has magic. I'm sure of it. If only I could find out how he did it."

"Did what?"

"I believe his power flowed back into him. That's why he fell unconscious. We need to watch him."

"Fat chance with Arthur around. He doesn't make a show of it, but that man's more protective than a mother hen."

"Really?" He frowned. For a nobleman, a prince no less, to act this way over a mere servant was unusual. Unheard of even.

"Tagan?"

During his travels as a scribe, he'd stumbled upon a lot of information, and something else too, something he'd dismissed as useless. A prophecy. No, it was too old a tale, too far fetched. Still, it would explain some things. He lifted a hand. "I'm not sure."

"What about Arthur?" Mathylda crossed her arms.

"I need you to get rid of him." If his suspicions were correct, the prince posed a serious problem.

Her eyes went wide. "He's the king's son! People will notice."

"You'll find a way, Mathylda. You have to. I will not have him stop us from achieving our goal. Because if Merlin is as powerful as we suspect, he could be our greatest find since Cornelius Sigan."

* * *

><p>By the time Arthur had won the first round on the practice field, the sun was high up in the sky. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face, trickled down his neck and proceeded to stick his padded tunic to his skin. Temporary break over, he wiped plastered bangs from his forehead and, seeing as he once again lacked his servant, reached for his gloves lying discarded in the grass. Opposite him, Sir Leon looked just as flushed. Arthur squinted at the elder knight. "No holding back, Leon."<p>

Leon shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Last year, Arthur had discovered that his knights had let him win the jousting competitions to keep from hurting the prince of Camelot. He'd been livid. Since then, they hadn't spared him and he had the bruises to prove it. They'd never held back on the practice field though, knowing all too well that lack of training could get Arthur killed in real combat.

Arthur swivelled his sword and resumed basic stance. Leon struck hard. He parried. A flurry of attacks followed. Soon both men were dancing around each other like love sick pheasants. Arthur turned and struck, only to find his defence crumbling when Leon ducked and used his legs to swipe his feet from under him. Arthur hit the ground hard, back first. His breath got knocked out of him, but he had the presence of mind to parry Leon's sword blow. He followed up his defence with a sideways roll, a move he could do with his eyes closed, except he ended up on his side, his limbs heavy with fatigue as if he moved through a swamp, muscles refusing to cooperate. A rushing sound swelled in his ears and his vision blurred. He thought he heard someone call his name. When his strength returned, he felt nauseous as hell.

"Sire!"

"I really shouldn't have skipped breakfast this morning," he groaned into the grass growing inches from his face.

"Are you okay?" Leon sounded worried.

Arthur rolled on his back. "Yeah, I guess the fall knocked the wind out of me." He took the knight's extended hand. A wave of vertigo hit him when he got pulled onto his feet.

Leon glanced at him with suspicion.

"I'm fine," Arthur snapped.

"I've been training with you since you were but a boy, Sire," Leon objected to Arthur's dismay. "That fall shouldn't have fazed you in the slightest. We can always resume the fight later, my Lord."

Leon pretended to give him the choice, but Arthur wasn't fooled. "_You're _calling off the training?" He thought better than to roll his eyes though. Staggering with dizziness wouldn't exactly persuade the knight all was well. The eye-rolling only worked with Merlin anyway. Which reminded him. They'd been at it for at least forty-five minutes and his servant was nowhere to be seen. "Fine." He stuck his sword into the ground.

Leon shot him an incredulous glare.

"I'm not forfeiting the session," Arthur countered. "I'm merely postponing it."

"Yes, sire."

Arthur felt too frustrated to pay anymore heed to the elder knight's worry, so he turned and left, not wanting to vent his anger on a man who'd been his weapon master for years. They had practice dummies for that. Plus, there was no need. Nothing was wrong, he was okay. All he wanted was a platter of food and a goblet of whine. To that end he stalked inside and went downstairs. It was after all, Merlin's job to take care of these things.

* * *

><p>Merlin stared at the picture.<p>

Gaius' books had told him nothing, so he'd headed for the hall of records. He didn't have much time before Geoffrey would look in on what was taking him so long. Although this particular book spoke of the blood crystal that Tagan had in his possession, it didn't go into detail. What had sent his thoughts reeling was the next page showing a picture of its twin. One that when used turned blue. He would recognize its different shape anywhere. It was the stone harbouring the soul of Cornelius Sigan.

He lowered the book.

No wonder the blood crystal was so powerful. Like Sigan's soul stone, its twin reached for his very essence. If he ever lost the mysterious buffer that kept it from soaking up his power, the blood stone would drain and kill him.

On the upside, he had defeated Sigan, so he knew how to keep the dark magic from gaining more foothold within him now. Trouble was, it required a particular powerful spell. Unlike the soul stone, there was a chance the blood stone would soak up all that he had before his magic could take effect. Not only could it cost him his life, if the scribe found out who he was, Tagan might use him to bring about Arthur's downfall. Also, without knowing where his powers drained off to, using magic might not be the wisest course of action. There were just too many variables. It felt good though to have an option, to not be entirely helpless. He closed the book, knowing he should tell Arthur that Tagan was not what he seemed. He only hoped the prince would listen to him.

* * *

><p><strong>Tbc<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's notes: Sorry of the time in between chapters, but work has gone crazy. Thanks as usual goes to my beta extraordinaire and to all you wonderful readers. I did a lot of rewriting on this chapter, so any faults you stumble upon are mine. Enough with the chat. Onto what was originally part of chapter eleven. It's time to move things along and find out what really happened._

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

To add to his irritation, Arthur found the interrogation room empty, so he ordered a guard to bring Mathylda up to his chambers. Merlin had been in his room, because his bed was made and there was a fresh meal waiting for him at his desk. Illusive as ever, his servant had gone again. It took him a while to get out of his armour on his own, irritation rising to whole new level. He refused to search the entire castle for his servant though. He got the impression that Merlin was avoiding him, which came as no surprise as Arthur was the one who had dumped him to be interrogated. Still, if his servant had been up to cleaning his room, he was okay.

After finishing the meal, he felt better and poked the table top with his knife in his need to do something, to find Morgana. Finally, Mathylda arrived looking red and flustered. She obviously wasn't used to getting summoned like this and glared at him as if he were the enemy. Which perhaps he was, yet he was too well versed in manners of the court to let it faze him. Besides, as crown prince, he was in his rights to summon her. He waited for the guard to leave before pointing his knife at her. "My father told me you are related to my Uncle."

She looked taken aback at his question but recovered quickly enough. "Your mother's brother. Lord Aggravaine, yes."

"How, exactly?"

"What's all this about, Sire?"

"I'm merely curious. I haven't seen my uncle in years."

"I am his niece. As you must know, Aggravaine never married, so he entrusted me with his household." She frowned. "There's no need to doubt my experience. I've run your uncle's estate for years."

Yes, she'd told him that already. "So my uncle has not asked for a lady's hand in marriage yet?" He wasn't surprised to hear this.

"There's no one that I know of that has his fancy, My Lord."

She didn't know? Arthur lowered his knife. Everyone who spent some time in his Uncle's household knew Aggravaine waited for one woman in particular. One that had stolen his heart from the moment he'd set eyes on her. She was the one reason why Aggravaine had continued to visit Camelot and had held his grudge toward his father for Ygraine's death at bay.

Morgana.

So either Mathylda had a highly developed sense of integrity, or she was lying about her ties to his uncle. Merlin was right, something was wrong. But as long as he didn't have proof, all he could do was push his authority. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, careful to keep a straight face.

"Will that be all, Sire?"

"Not exactly. Where's my servant?"

Before she could answer, the doors flew open and the king burst in. "Arthur!"

Arthur groaned, knowing why his father was here.

"Sir Leon told me you were unwell! Is this true?"

Of all time for his father to start showing his concern, now was one of the worst. The last thing he wanted was for Mathylda to perceive him as weak. To his utter dismay, Merlin chose that moment to walk in. Great. Now he would never hear the end of it. In an attempt to save what was left of his dignity, he waved a hand in dismissal. "He's exaggerating. I felt a bit… off. From hunger." Arthur nodded at the empty plate on the table. "I'm fine now."

Behind the king, Merlin glanced at him, obviously not buying a single word he said.

"I'm _fine_," Arthur repeated for good measure.

"According to Leon, you are not. I'm hereby relieving you of your duties."

Arthur struggled to keep calm. "There's no need, father. I can handle them."

"No you can't! I'm not going to risk your health over this. You've been pushing yourself ever since…" A storm of grief and determination battled behind his father's eyes as the king fell quiet. His once steadfast father was scared to lose him as well as Morgana. Arthur opened his mouth to say something but then the king's voice hardened. "You will do as I say."

Arthur clenched his teeth. When his father got like this there was no use arguing the point.

"Good. I'm sure Sir Leon can handle the Camelot's defences for a while."

"I'm sure he can," Arthur grudgingly admitted. Maybe he could use this situation to his advantage. "Then you won't mind me riding out to visit uncle Aggravaine?"

Merlin cocked his head, obviously seeing right through the casual façade. Arthur ignored him.

"There's still a sorcerer to be found, Arthur."

"Leon can handle it. You said so yourself." His father didn't comment. A sign that Arthur needed to convince him. He turned to Mathylda. "Why have you come here?"

"Because rumours had it Camelot was in need of my expertise."

"And my uncle just let you go?"

She lifted her chin. "I'm of noble birth, Sire. I can go where I please."

"Father, what I'm trying to say is that Aggravaine has heard _rumours_ about Morgana's disappearance. We should, at the very least, grant him the courtesy of delivering the bad news ourselves." Not wanting to upset his grieving father any more than he had to, he dropped his guard. "I can look for Morgana on the way. Perhaps one man can achieve more than an entire patrol can."

His father looked thoughtful. "You may have a point. If this sorcerer we're looking for has already infiltrated our court like Tagan suspects, then it's probably best that you're away."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his father he wasn't a cowered, that he would never run away from a threat, but he put his pride aside. Visiting Aggravaine would give him the perfect excuse to check up on Mathylda.

His father walked up to him. "I cannot let you go unaided though."

"Father, the presence of more knights might scare off any potential leads to Morgana. Aggravaine's estate lies within the kingdom. It will be safe to travel on my own."

The king stared at him as if gouging the value of his words.

"There's none to spare, father. As long as the wall's not rebuild you will need all hands to defend Camelot."

A stiff nod was all he got, but it was enough.

"Sire?"

They turned to Mathylda.

"With respect, I have to insist that you leave your servant behind, My Lord."

Merlin opened his mouth to object, but Arthur caught his eye, cutting him off. His father would have his servant's hide if he spoke out of turn. "It's his job to serve me. He's coming along."

Not looking fazed in the slightest, Mathylda turned to his father to make her plea. "Sire, as long as we haven't found the sorcerer, Tagan has ordered house arrest for the entire male staff. We cannot make an exception for the boy. It would be careless and potentially dangerous. I will go in his stead."

Arthur stared at her. Was she actually suggesting she would take Merlin's place? Never in a million years had he seen that coming.

"Agreed."

"But, father-"

"I will hear no more of this, Arthur. The boy stays here. It's only because I know its safer for you to be away that I let you go at all!"

"But… I can't ask _her_ to tend to my needs!" he said exasperated. What happened to his 'live-and-die-by-the-rule-and-tradition' father? "She's a lady of the court and… a woman."

Uther nodded at Mathylda. "One of our soldiers currently assigned to her and Tagan will accompany you, Arthur. Tagan can make do with one guard. Mathylda, it would be discourteous if I didn't offer you my ward's maid."

"No," Arthur said with more vehemence than he'd intended. He let out a breath, squashing the overwhelming feeling that taking Gwen with him would be wrong. Not that she would be in any danger. Also, he would be happy for the company. So why the knot in his stomach, the anxiety threatening to spill from his lips? "With Gaius away, she's needed to tend to the wounded."

Mathylda frowned. He ignored her. It was his father he needed to convince.

"None of the other maids can ride a horse, Arthur."

"You know I'll be nothing but courteous to the Lady Mathylda. I will guard her with my life." He took a step forward, noticed Merlin glancing at Mathylda and followed his gaze.

She'd straightened and now pinched her eyes, glaring at Arthur. "I can take care of myself, My lords."

He suppressed a smile at her obstinacy. She really held no love for him, but if she agreed, then who was he to argue. "Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to sound condescending."

"Sending off a Lady with solely men for company is highly unprecedented," his father intervened. Arthur knew he was about to draw a firm line when Mathylda stepped in.

"Your concern is noted my King, but a maid is not needed," she spoke with a sweet but confident tone to her voice. "I am certain you have absolute trust in your son."

His father fell silent, gouging her as he would any woman he found suddenly worthy of his respect. "Arthur, she'll be your responsibility."

"No harm will come to her." Behind Mathylda, Merlin shook his head. Was he warning him? For what? Annoyed, not to mention still feeling anxious and tense, he took in a sharp breath. Maybe distancing himself from his servant wasn't such a bad idea. That way he could clear his head without having Merlin's inane prattle add to his nerves.

Also, he wasn't completely thick headed. Merlin looked like hell, he could use a break. If he was not able take his servant away from Mathylda, then taking her away from the citadel might be the next best thing. He nodded his assent, was well aware of Merlin looking away, his servant's expression battling between anger and defeat. Prepared to do what was needed to keep both Camelot and Merlin safe, Arthur hardened his heart. "We'll leave as soon as the horses are prepared."

* * *

><p>"Arthur, <em>what<em> are you doing?" Merlin hadn't moved from his spot after Uther and Mathylda had left.

Standing with his back towards him, hands on his hips, his friend dipped his chin to his chest, then shook his head. "I'll be back in a couple of days."

Merlin did not even pretend to pack his friend's belongings. "She's dangerous. You shouldn't go off alone with her!"

Arthur turned, sounding more annoyed than ever. "I think I can take her in a fight, _Mer_lin."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Then what _do_ you mean?" Arthur blocked his objections with an anger that froze the air between them. "Where the hell have you been, anyway? What good's having a servant when you're never there!"

Perhaps it was because his shoulder hurt, or that he was tired and felt nauseous as hell that Arthur shouts rocked him to the core. He had to fight to take the sting out of the conversation. "Don't tell me you were actually worried about me."

But Arthur was having none of his banter. "You are a manservant to the prince, Merlin! Instead of honouring the job, you seem to be bent on letting me plough through on my own!" He stepped in, his voice turning harsh in outrage. "Do you know how long it took me to get out of my armour? You're lucky I'm not sacking you! Where. Have. You. been?"

Arthur's aggression felt like a sandstorm grating his skin. As much as Merlin tried to keep a level head, he couldn't battle what was obviously more than a fit of banter. Something snapped as if Arthur's anger suddenly became part of his own emotional turmoil. "At the hall of records!" he bellowed with a strength he usually preserved for the dragon. Startled, he reined in his sudden lack of control, his lack of caution. He stepped back, not afraid of Arthur but fearing how close the scribe was at finding out who he really was; was scared of whatever Tagan wanted to use him for. Now was not the moment to reveal himself. He grew quiet. "Do you recall the curse of Sigan?"

Arthur looked as if he couldn't decide between continuing his rant and listening to what must have sounded like interesting information. "How could I forget. The sorcerer, lived about three hundred years ago, decided to make a re-appearance last year. I don't see what this has to do with your absence." He crossed his arms.

"He used a crystal to harbour his soul. I did some research. The crystal you saw Tagan wear turns out to be related to the blue stone Sigan used."

"Are you saying Tagan's a sorceror?"

"I'm saying he might not be what he seems. And neither is Mathylda." A thought occurred to him. "If they're connected to Sigan, then they might be older than they look."

"Oh, they might even be connected to those bodies we found in the wall!"

Merlin was about to say he wouldn't go that far when he saw the mocking look on Arthur's face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin! What on earth makes you think he's hundreds of years old? Did he use the crystal around his neck? Did it do something, anything that would explain your preposterous theory?"

Again, Arthur's ridicule seemed to shake him more than usual. But the moment his resolve weakened, the dark magic inside him clawed its way into his fears, through his barriers, through to the core of his being where it ripped out a sliver of power. His hand cramped in his effort to resist pressing down on his chest. He fought to keep the distress from his face and recovered just in time to see Arthur sink down on the bed.

Merlin's stomach seemed to drop the entire length of Camelot's tallest tower as he realized what was happening. He should have known. But without either Gaius' or the dragon's guidance, he hadn't seen the obvious. Not until now.

Arthur sat on the bed, breathing heavily, hand pressed to his chest.

It took Merlin a full two seconds to force the words passed his closed throat. "The king said you fainted."

If Arthur's looks could kill, he would be dead.

Merlin caught his friend's blazing gaze and held it. _One half cannot truly hate that which makes him whole_, the dragon had said. When the dart had hit him, it had ripped all his magic away from him, had torn his soul apart. In his panic, his magic must have sought the nearest safe haven, the one other person it recognized as part of the same coin.

Arthur.

His friend waved a hand at him. "I don't want to talk about it."

Tagan was right. He'd acted on instinct but not in the way the scribe had anticipated. He felt it now, traces of his own power trying to manifest inside the prince in an effort to keep from being soaked up by the blood crystal. Arthur however, was as opposite to him as Gwen was to Morgana, so the prince wasn't equipped to handle magic. He sensed that his friend could harbour his power, but he could not use it. And herein lay the danger. His magic _could_ use Arthur.

When Merlin got hit by the dart, his powers baled and Arthur got flooded. The sheer amount was too much for Arthur too handle and got reflected back to Merlin, but not before his magic had taken from the prince what it needed in order to keep Merlin alive. That's probably why his friend passed out on the practice field. But what was worse was that the small amount of power he lost now -as opposed to the surge he lost in one go during the interrogation- wasn't returned to him. It was mostly spent on fortifying a conduit between them that felt almost tangible. What magic remained was a small enough amount to seep through Arthur's barely existing defences to keep itself safe inside the man. Except when Merlin was in danger, or when the drain occurred, then he used that magic to feed off of Arthur's stamina. He'd always been conscious of a connection between them, but not like this. He was living on borrowed strength, literally. Arthur's strength. That was what had kept him going.

Horrified, he realized he had been feeding off his friend when he'd bellowed at him a moment ago. And even now, he used a small amount, just to keep standing, while Arthur had lost all his strength in his legs. A mental barrier Merlin hadn't even known existed slammed down. The dark power inside him twisted furiously, but he held fast. He couldn't have Tagan target him with that dark magic of his and, as a result, feed off of Arthur as well. Solely relying on his own strength now, Merlin swallowed. "You can't leave." He paused. "Like this. You can't leave like this. What if you pass out, again?"

"_Mer_lin, I appreciate your concern, but I'm going to visit my uncle and that's it." Arthur looked up from the bed. Whatever barrier Merlin had raised seemed to work because strength returned to his friend's voice along with his lack of patience. "I thought you wanted me to get Mathylda off your back? You should be grateful! At least now you can get some sleep."

Merlin nodded, stating the obvious. "You knew."

"That she's been keeping you up all night doing God knows what? Yes, Merlin."

"It's not-"

Arthur cut him off. "I don't care, Merlin! You're not coming."

Letting Arthur go off on his own was hazardous at the best of times, but now… Earlier experience with the poisoned chalice told him distance didn't effect the connection between them. If Arthur passed out, Mathylda would have every opportunity to get rid of the prince, especially if she didn't want him to reach Aggravaine. "You can't stop me."

Arthur stood up. "Yes, I can!"

His friend's harsh anger enflamed the mental wall between them. Merlin flinched and bit his lip. He doubled his effort to cut himself off from Arthur but it was like trying to cut off an arm or a leg. He couldn't do it.

"I'm not telling you again." Arthur walked up to his face him with a cold fury that battered against their connection like the strokes of a whip. "If I find you following me, if I see one glimpse of you, I'll have you put in the stocks for the entire length of my trip!"

Arthur's serious attempt to shove him away pierced through his walls like a battering ram through a door. Caught off guard, he stumbled back.

Empathic.

It wasn't just Arthur's strength he drew on. Their link was empathic. He'd always thought that deep down his friend never meant to act obnoxious, but the utter contempt travelling along the stream of words spoke of a truth that felt like being struck by lightening.

Arthur ripped the still empty saddle bag from his hands. "Since you obviously can't handle the packing, I will get my old servant to do it for me. I want you to go and prepare the horses. Is. That. Understood?"

"Yes, Sire." he gave in, became for a moment the servant he needed to be, to survive. For the dark magic within him, it was enough. With a snap -and a heated sense of triumph originating from the dark magic within him- his mental barriers collapsed. He jerked away before Arthur could see the pain clouding his eyes. Sensing that Arthur must have felt at least part of that, he desperately attempted to keep from drawing on his friend's strength. His shoulder blossomed in agony as magic escaped him once again, so he stormed out of the room. His mind was set though. No matter how gutted he was at his friend's actions, no matter the consequences. He wouldn't let Arthur go alone.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Applause to those of you who got it right as to where Merlin magic went! So, one mystery solved, but this opens up a whole new set of problems not to mention a whole boatload of opportunities for me as a writer. Thank you for staying with me so far on this story!


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes: **_Once upon the time there was this writer with plenty of time on her hand. Sure, she had a job, and a social life, but that didn't prevent her from writing on the off hours, just to relax. Then this writer's life, oh… let's call her Kreek, got a new house mate in the form of a puppy. And low and behold, GONE were the relaxing hours! _

_Instead down time was filled with raising this 8 weeks old wriggly 10 pounds of doggy life both days and nights. Walking, feeding, running after him, teaching him right from wrong, fishing him out of neighbours yards and ponds. Now shy of sleep and the dog finally being somewhat house broken and rudimentary trained, I can leave him alone for a few hours, and I actually managed to write something. It's not much, but it's something. I prided myself on always answering my reviews, but it just wasn't happening. So thank you ALL so much for your encouraging words, and for you pressing me to continue this. I will, but chapters will be shorter and intervals longer. Thanks as usual goes to my beta Strut. So here's chapter 13 part 1._

_Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 part I.<strong>

Illuminating the deserted market place, a lone torch light flickered as rain's attempt to douse it was met with a hiss, followed by the flame brightly flaring in the next moment. Set in a small leeway a few paces away, the torch seemed to laugh in the face of so much water pouring from the skies. Rain's slippery fingers dripped down Merlin's cheeks, down to his chest where it squeezed his wound with cold tenacity. But two could play that game. He focussed on the flame, on its red hot fiery core to fight the ice swelling within him using inner strength alone, no magic, and kept from sagging on the stock's soaked wooden dais.

At this time of night only Camelot's guards did their rounds, but even they must have found an alternative route out of the rain, because he hadn't seen any of them. Either that, or they'd been told to avoid him. A shadow moved into the circle of light, soundless in the rush of rain hitting the cobblestones. He knew who it was, even before the boy showed himself. Wide eyed, Elliot looked as pale as a sheet, his hands clenched in fists by his side, lower lip trembling. He looked exhausted and whispered something inaudible over the down pour. The flame flickered in a gust of wind. Braced by the stocks, Merlin craned his neck, glancing at the kitchen boy. "Why?" He'd not meant to sound so judgemental because Elliot was not to blame, but with stiffly frozen lips, he could barely croak out the word.

Elliot lowered his head and stood, looking utterly miserable. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know Tagan's methods of persuasion. You did what you had to do to stay alive." He would never have forgiven himself if Elliot had resisted long enough for the scribe to kill the boy. "Now get out of here before you get into trouble."

Elliot nodded.

With a sad heart, Merlin watched him go. He went over his fast dwindling options and thought of earlier that evening, when he had waited long enough for Arthur to get a head start and had made his way over to the stables.

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><p>Merlin quietly saddled his mare feeling pretty sure he could follow Arthur with his eyes closed, even without this empathic link leaving a trail as bright as day. Over in the next stall, a horse's breath left its nostrils in a plume of smoke. One last tug at the straps, and then he backed his mare out of her stall. A scraping noise sounded close. He stiffened.<p>

"Going somewhere?" Tagan spoke behind him.

He whipped around, startled to not only find Tagan near the stable doors, but also to see the kitchen boy standing next to him. He stared at Elliot, numbly letting Tagan take the reins from his hands.

The boy looked away, hunched with guilt. "I'm sorry," Elliot mumbled. "He had me keep an eye on you."

Merlin turned his attention toward the scribe. He should have known Tagan wouldn't shy away from using any force necessary to get what he wanted, and that obviously included terrifying little boys into doing his bidding. The man's vicious grin told him he was right. He clenched his fists to keep from magically shoving the scribe into the nearest wall.

"Go ahead. It will drain you instantly."

Anger empowered his instinct to survive. But in that instant his need to protect Arthur overwrote this mindless urge to protect himself. This wasn't his strength he used. It was Arthur's. The last thing he needed was for his friend to fall unconscious with just Mathylda for company. Tagan was right. Not only that, using magic now would prove that he was the sorcerer the scribe was looking for. Despite his strong suspicions, Tagan still wasn't certain and he had to do everything in his power to keep it that way. He couldn't keep his struggle from surfacing though, so he looked away.

Tagan towered over him. "No? A pity." His voice dropped to a whisper. Merlin felt the scribe's breath in his ear. "Because right about now I could have used your powers." He straightened and nodded at two guards behind him. They shoved Elliot out of the way and stepped into view. "I can only think of one or two reasons why you would disobey orders and break house arrest," Tagan continued. "Either your loyalty to Arthur borders on the absurd," he gave another foul smile. "Or you are running."

Merlin tightened his expression.

Looking frustrated, Tagan waved at the guards. "Take him away, let's see if the stocks will get me the answers I need."

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><p>At first Merlin shifted on his feet, strained his neck and hands, a sign he ploughed through this experience with his usual gusto. But as evening moved on, he stilled up to the point where Gwen hadn't seen him move in ages. Drizzle had turned into a full out down pour and darkness now clouded her view of the stocks a ways off to the side. Hidden beneath a wooden canopy Gwen stared around the corner, her face a mask of worry.<p>

Unable to see Merlin suffer like this, she'd snuck him some food an hour ago, but was at a loss as to what more she could do. She'd asked for an audience with the king but was refused. Maybe that was just as well, because Uther's drive to find this all-powerful sorcerer probably didn't let him contemplate the possibility that it was Merlin's loyalty that drove him to go after his son. She wasn't even sure Arthur would be able to help should he be here. But then Merlin wouldn't have left in the first place. Gwen shook her head. At least the rain made it easier to approach her friend unnoticed. She gripped her cloak tightly around her and was about to step out when a chorus of footsteps announced a contingency of guards approaching the market place. Quickly, she pulled back in the shadows, watching two of the men taking up positions close to the dais. Her heart sank. They would surely see if she went up to Merlin now. There was nothing she could do but head home, and hope Merlin would be set free in the morning.

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><p>Worry for Arthur sat like a deadweight in the pit of his stomach. His power swelled within him, pushed itself passed his frozen core up to the surface where it sat just beneath his skin. He felt it throbbing behind his eyes, beneath his fingertips, warming him up a little. One word, and the stocks would open. He could stretch his trembling legs, could stop the ache in his back from this forced position, and could rub sore wrists from bearing more and more of his weight as his strength gave way. Or if he went for the dramatic, he could manipulate the flame and set the leeway ablaze. People would come running. He could use the distraction to escape. Most likely though his magic would either siphon off toward Tagan's crystal, or, instead of causing the torch light to flare, the spell would burn up Arthur instead. With a sigh he let go, felt his magic retreat like waves from a shore toward his shoulder where it drained away in a nauseating spiral of diminishing strength. His legs buckled, but once again, he gritted his teeth, and kept standing.<p>

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><p><em><strong>Tbc<strong>_

**_I Know it's been a long time. I'm still hopefull that I will finnish this. So, I will not give up on this story, or give it up for adoption. Thank you all for reading and expressing your interest in this story._**


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